Mind and Hand
by lilyamongthorns
Summary: Follows Tony during his last year at MIT. He meets Pepper, innocent and green, but smart and with wits that rival his own. She's unlike any girl he's met before. And of course, Tony gets everything he wants. Always. AU-ish. Pepperony.
1. Hand Covers Bruise

AN: Ok. I am really excited about this, so I hope you guys like it. I think this is one of the first stories I've written that I actually have a plot planned. In this AU story, Tony meets Pepper while they're both still in college. I've got some good stuff planned for the death of Tony's parents, and how Tony will manage once he inherits his father's company. I've also got a plan for how he will deal with his long distance relationship with Pepper. I won't give too much away right now; I want you guys to read without me giving away all the backstory in an AN. But for now let me set up the basics.

In this story, the year is 1995. We start in the summer, and cover Tony's last year at MIT. Tony and Pepper are both 18, and Pepper's just finished her first year at UCLA. That's all I'm saying for now. Other details will unfold as the story goes on.

Also, I apologize if this is short. I will have longer chapters eventually. So, without further ado…

-O-O-O-

_May 20__th__, 1995_

His eyes snapped open, then snapped shut again. If this was how bright heaven was supposed to be, he didn't want to go. He groaned and rolled on his side. His head pounded and he felt nauseous. The usual. He wasn't sure what time he got home. He didn't even remember leaving the party. But that was normal for a Friday night. He was lucky he was alone in the bed, and that he hadn't brought anyone home with him. As far as he knew.

Once he got the nerve to sit up, millions of hammers started pounding inside his skull. He rubbed fiercely at his eyes with the heel of his hands, cursing under his breath. Eventually he'd have to get out of bed. He had plans today to meet Dean and some friends at the shore. A glance at his alarm told him the time was 11:06am. Surprising. He usually managed to sleep until three, depending on how much he drank the night before.

He showered, taking his sweet time. If he was late, he could care less. He downed four aspirin and even though his head was still pounding, he headed out the door by noon. It wasn't a long drive, and was an enjoyable one. He put the top down and let the cool sea breeze hit his face and tangle his hair. The Cape was quiet, lined with little houses and shops, but otherwise undisturbed. He sometimes drove down here just to be by himself. Something about the sea was soothing to him. It was ever changing, continuously renewed as it churned. And it didn't listen to anyone. No one told the sea where to stop, when to flow. No one told the sea it wasn't good enough. The sea made its own rules. It was the one thing man could not conquer. No one argued with power of that magnitude. Land was weak. Land let itself be dominated, but the sea never folded.

He decided to park in the lot of one of the little shops, and walk the rest of the way to the bay. The salt in the wind filled his lungs and stuck to his hair, but he wasn't bothered by it. Inevitably, the sand filled his shoes and he was obliged to take them off, walking the rest of the way in only swim shorts and a heather grey t-shirt, which labeled him quite obviously as a student of MIT. If anyone knew his age, they would think he was a freshman. But his fake ID boosted his age by a few years, and his unique mind boosted his credits a few years. This coming fall, he would begin his last year and graduate with two masters degrees in physics and engineering. In past years, he had taken classes during the summer. In part, summer classes helped him to get ahead (not that he needed to), and they kept him busy. But mostly, he filled all his time with classes because there was no way he'd be returning to Long Island for three months straight with his mother and father glancing over his shoulder every other minute.

With his father splitting time between California and New York, he knew he'd be coerced into accompanying him. The last thing he wanted was to spend any extended amount of time with his father.

But this summer he convinced them both that there was no need for him to take classes during the summer. He could finish everything in the next two semesters. So he took the summer off. Of course his mother begged that he come home, and he'd tried every excuse in the book not to go. He had an apartment here, and there was no need to leave. He needed this summer to kick back, relax. Take a breather.

His best friend, Dean, had invited him to the shore today to do just that. He said he was bringing a few other friends as well, and Tony wondered if that included any hot girls. It was all but impossible to find girls his age on campus that weren't stupid, immature freshman. But then again, those girls were the most willing to put out.

"TONY!" The shout broke him out of his reverie, and a flock of seagulls were startled into flight.

Ahead, an ugly, rusted station wagon was parked in front of another little shop. Dean's car. The man had the smarts and the money to put himself through school at MIT, but he still drove a ratty, rundown clunker. Tony smirked and shook his head. He'd tried to convince him multiple times to get a new car, but Dean insisted on driving that piece of crap.

Dean made his way over, and clapped Tony on the back. "Man. Long time no see, huh?" he joked.

"Yeah. What? A week?" Tony laughed and shook his friend's hand in greeting.

"How was the party? You looked trashed."

"Still better looking than you," Tony quipped.

Two other guys and a girl were unpacking towels and food from the car. "Hey Dean! Get your ass back over here!" one shouted.

The two men sauntered back over to the car. On further inspection, Tony noticed the girl and one of the guys had matching red hair. They were obviously brother and sister. He looked the girl over closer. She was wearing a floral bikini top and cut-offs. Her legs were long and slender, nicely toned. She was obviously athletic. Her bright red hair was pulled into a pony tail and sunglasses topped her head. The last boy, who had spoken earlier, was shirtless and had curly brown hair that he obviously worked very hard to maintain and the sea breeze was currently ruining his efforts. Tony decided immediately that he didn't like this guy.

"Guys, this is Tony," Dean introduced him. "And this is Thomas," he gestured to the brown-haired boy. Tony waved passively.

"Peter," Dean continued. The red-headed boy reached out his hand to shake Tony's.

The girl didn't wait for an introduction. She reached out her hand without hesitation. "Hi. I'm Virginia."


	2. Virginia May

AN: OK, I was going to wait a few days to post the second chapter, but I just can't!Thank you for all your reviews and favorites. Its seriously awesome. Keep 'em coming! So here ya go. Third chapter is in the works already.

-O-O-O-

She grabbed his hand and shook it. Tony just stood there, staring at her. She wasn't what he would consider gorgeous. She wasn't even really his type. She looked young, and her face had a smattering of freckles on her cheeks and nose. Her mouth was small, but her lips were full and smiling. Her chest and arms were splattered with freckles too, but lighter and fainter than the ones on her face. Speaking of her chest, there wasn't much there. Or at least not as much as he liked. But her legs were long. She was a runner. He could tell.

He became aware that he was staring. "What?" he said, coming back to earth.

"Virginia," she repeated. Was that her name? He hadn't been listening. "Or Ginny. If you like."

He released her hand.

They finished unloading the stuff from Dean's car and headed down to their prime spot on the shore. The guys shed their shirts, except for Thomas who was already showing off the body he was clearly much too proud of. They laid out their towels and stuck the food under the umbrella to keep from the sun. When Tony looked back at Ginny, her cutoffs were abandoned in the pile of t-shirts next to the ice chest. She wore bikini bottoms that matched her top. Her legs were even better in full view.

"Race you to the water, Peter," she challenged her brother.

The pair took off. Ginny was obviously the faster one of the two. She sprinted a few feet ahead and dove into the waves before her brother could. Their laughter echoed back to their spot on the shore, and Tony watched as Peter tossed her from his shoulder into the water.

The familiar snap of a bottle top made Tony turn back to the umbrella, where Thomas and Dean were seated on towels, each with a beer in hand.

He fished himself one out of the ice chest and skillfully snapped it open.

"So how's Victoria?" Dean asked.

"Who?" Tony answered, even though he knew exactly who Dean was talking about.

"Oh. That bad, huh?"

Tony shrugged. "Well, she said it was her, not me. So it isn't my fault." He threw Dean a grin and took a long swig of his beer.

Dean snorted. "Yeah. Right."

Peter and Virginia were headed back. Their matching hair was even more violently red when wet. He said something to her, and she elbowed his ribs. He swung an arm around her shoulders and ruffled her hair. When they reached the umbrella, Peter took a beer and sat next to Dean.

Virginia perched between Tony and Thomas.

"Beer?" Tony asked her, holding up his bottle.

She wrinkled her nose and he was caught off guard when he felt his heart skip a beat. "Nah. I'm only eighteen."

Tony shrugged and smirked. "So am I."

She quirked an eyebrow at him and her lips became a thin line. She disapproved. She was a rule follower. Well, wasn't that just adorable. He felt like puking. Ruler-followers always ruined the fun for everyone else.

She turned to Thomas and started a conversation.

After his second beer, Tony wandered down to the edge of the water, stretching out in the sand so the water only reached his feet. He didn't like these new friends of Dean's. Thomas was a snob. He could tell even within half an hour of knowing the guy. And he was obviously into Virginia. That was fine; it wasn't like Tony was jealous. He just felt bad for her. The guy was a dick.

Peter seemed cool, but they hadn't really gotten to talk much. He and Virginia were obviously close. And Virginia. Well…she seemed fine. She was…cute. But Tony couldn't see himself hanging out with her. She was too straight-laced, and she didn't drink, which meant she probably didn't put out either.

Suddenly, his view of the clouds above was blocked by her head. She smiled down at him. "Hey."

"Hi," he answered, bemused.

"Can I join you?"

"Ok."

She sat next to him, pulling her knees to her chin and digging her toes into the sand. He propped himself up on his elbows.

"So you're a physics major?" she asked.

Random, but ok. If she really wanted to know.

"A double major. Physics and engineering."

"Whoa. That's heavy."

Not really. "Yeah, I guess."

"I'm a business major."

"Boring."

She looked at him. Behind her aviators, her eyebrows were furrowed together. "Well that was rude."

He shrugged.

"Are you always this…unhappy?" she asked, shifting to lean back on her palms.

"Look. I don't know you. You don't know me. I don't care who you are, or what your major is."

"Because I'm not a double-D."

"Excuse me?"

"Because I'm not a blonde bimbo sorority girl with big breasts, you could care less about getting to know me."

"Pretty much. Got a problem with that?"

"No. I just think its really shallow."

"Ok, Mother Teresa. I don't really need a lecture."

She stood and brushed the sand from her backside. "Wow. You're fantastic, you know that?"

"Yep." He looked out over the water, avoiding her.

"Damn, you must have an ego the size of Texas."

"I've never been there. I wouldn't know." That was lie. He'd been to Houston and Dallas with his father multiple times on business trips when he was young.

"You know, guys like you are so predictable. You pretend to be so deep and have all these emotions pent up. You act like you're entitled to something. Its pathetic."

He didn't answer, and when he turned to look at her she was halfway back to the umbrella. He turned, looking back over the water.

Who the hell did she think she was? She had just stripped him bare of all the walls he put up, and he'd only known her for two hours. He thought his walls were impenetrable. He'd gotten so good at deflecting that not even his father's missiles could crack his fortress, and in ten minutes one girl shattered it all to rubble at his feet. And that scared the hell out of him. He could honestly say he'd never met a girl like Virginia Potts.


	3. Here is A Heart

AN: Here we go another round. I cannot even tell you how HAPPY and HONORED I am to have all these reviews and alerts! I know, I know, its only 9 reviews so far. But that's more than anything I've ever gotten on something that's just 2 chapters. And I know that when I review, it has to be a pretty good piece for me to take the time and review. It really means a lot that you do :)

And ok, I'll be the first to admit that the means by which I got Tony and Pepper alone in this chapter is kind of lame and last minute, but I had to do it somehow!

On a side note, do you know how hard it is to write Virginia instead of Pepper? I had to go through several times and change her name. But no worries, she will eventually become the Pepper we know and love.

Also, I am updating quickly, yes I know. But as the plot thickens, updates will become slower, but not too much slower. I'm on break for the next 2 1/2 –ish months, so that gives me a lot of time to write.

Again, thank you guys! I love you all! Keep' em coming!

-O-O-O-

The group lasted until about five before they were all exhausted and starving. It was decided that Virginia and Peter could stay at Tony's for the evening. Dean's apartment was full; his girlfriend had decided last minute to stay the night, and Thomas was staying too. There was no room for Peter and Virginia. Tony really didn't mind all too much. He had a second bedroom anyways. As long as they didn't bother him. Virginia was sent with the bags back to Tony's apartment while Peter went along with Dean to pick up his car where he'd left it at Deans place.

Because he was feeling generous, Tony offered to carry one of the bags on their walk back to where he'd parked his car. He didn't speak to her once they left the group. He wasn't about to apologize for earlier. He didn't do apologies.

She piped up first. "Hey. About earlier. I'm sorry. I was out of line, and…"

"No big deal," he said curtly.

"OK, as long as we're cool."

"Sure."

When they reached his '59 Corvette, her jaw dropped. "You're kidding me right?"

He chuckled. "Nope, sorry sugar." He swung her bags into the trunk. He smirked as he watched her admiring the vehicle, trailing her fingers along the side.

"Don't scratch the paint job, sister," he said, sliding inside.

She slid slowly into the passenger side, looking around her dreamily, taking everything in. "My brother's gonna flip when he sees this."

He smirked to himself and revved the engine. Cute. She thought this was his only car.

"He loves Corvettes," she said, running a hand along the white interior.

"Wow. You actually know what type it is. Surprising. Most girls just think its pretty."

"Yeah, it's a '59. And by the sounds of the engine, a V8."

"You know a lot about cars?"

"I know a little." He smirked when he noticed her blushing.

He sped out of the lot and down the road, showing off for her just a little. They rode in silence a while. She was watching out the window, a comfortable smile on her face. She was kind of cute, now that he was close to her, and not in the blinding sun. She had two studs in the cartilage of her left ear, but no tattoos that he could see. Good. Women with tattoos was a turn off, unless they could pull it off well enough. She had lost the rubber band that had held her hair back, and now with the windows down it blew freely around her shoulders, like fire.

"So…" He shifted gears, making the engine hum. "Where do you go to school?"

"Oh, now you're interested?" she eyed him with a smile. He noticed for the first time that her eyes were crystal blue.

He shrugged. "Making conversation."

"UCLA," she answered, turning back to the window.

"Oh." He wanted to mention that his father's business was based in California, but decided against it. "That's cool. Were you born there?"

"No. I grew up in North Carolina."

"And Peter? Where does he go to school?"

"Oh. He doesn't. He's about to leave for basic training in August."

He was quiet. He'd been through this before. Girls had brothers or fathers in the armed forces, and suddenly Tony's family became the bad guys because of their business. He'd heard countless sob stories, and couldn't care less about another.

When he didn't comment, she was quiet again, with her elbow propped on the window sill, staring at the neat little houses as they passed.

Once they were inside the limits of Cambridge, he spoke again. "I'm stopping at the store up here. You want anything?"

"A coke," she answered, reaching for her purse in the floorboard.

"No, I've got it." He waved her money away.

"You sure?" she asked.

He nodded. In the store, he bought a 12-pack of beer, and her coke. He saw her nose wrinkle again before he even got back in the car. That nose, those freckles. They were growing on him, he had to admit. When he slid back inside, she raised her eyebrow again.

"What?"

She gave a little smile and shook her head.

-O-O-O-

He dropped her bags by the door. "Well. Home sweet home," he said, gesturing around. "Make yourself comfortable."

She kicked her sandals off by the door, and he followed suit. She looked, wide eyed, around the living room. The apartment was nice, well kept. But he had a woman named Rosa come in every Wednesday to keep it in order; one less thing he had to worry about. It was furnished simply, but tastefully. A big screen TV was the focus of the room, surrounded by a white leather couch, a matching arm chair, and a sleek glass coffee table. It was simple, but definitely not the typical college student's apartment. There were two bedrooms, one belonged to him and the other was for any guests. It came in handy when his friends were too drunk to drive themselves home, which was more often than not.

She leaned against the counter, sipping her coke while he stacked beers into the refrigerator to cool.

"This apartment is huge," she said, watching him.

"It isn't that big." It was pretty big. But he was used to a huge mansion. This apartment was the size of his wing of the house back home in Long Island.

"Its bigger than my dorm room," she offered, sipping her soda.

Dorm room. That was cute. Wait. Did she not know?

"They told you I'm…Tony…Stark, right?"

She choked on her coke, and covered her mouth. "Oh. My. God," she said behind her hand. Her blue eyes were the size of saucers.

He chuckled and watched, with maybe a little too much pleasure, as her face reddened. He gave a crooked grin and ran a hand through his hair.

"Now I see the resemblance."

He smile fell. "That's what everyone says."

"Oh my god. I'm so embarrassed." She put a hand to her cheek. She had completely trashed him without even realizing who he was.

"Really, its no big deal."

There was a beat, and she spoke again. "So you're like a…a super genius right?"

He laughed. "No, not a super genius. More like a super handsome genius."

But she didn't catch the joke. She was now staring at the robots that lined the wall of what would've been the dining room. "Whoa. Those are cool."

"Wanna see how one works?"

She smiled. "Sure."

"Darwin, power on." He said, apparently to the tallest bot. There were a series of mechanical clicks and whirs as the robot came to life. On the robot's face, two bright green lights served as eyes, and a painted mouth smiled pleasantly beneath them.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Stark?" a mechanical voice asked.

"Whoa." Virginia grinned.

"Could you get me a coke, please, Darwin?"

"Certainly, Mr. Stark."

The bot moved toward the kitchen and Virginia moved out of its path. Its hand, complete with five fingers, including a thumb, posed to open the refrigerator door where it stood for a moment, scanning the contents until it found the correct item. The robot lifted the tab and snapped open the soda can before holding it out to Tony.

"That is too cool," she said with wide eyes.

"Thank you, Darwin. Back to your spot, and power down."

The robot retreated back to its original spot among its counterparts, and its little green eyes shut off.

"Wow. Do you always make him do stuff for you?"

"When I'm feeling lazy, yeah," he laughed, sipping the coke.

Virginia laughed too, leaning back against the counter. He was pretty cool, this Tony Stark. Maybe a little abrasive, but it wasn't anything she couldn't deal with. He had a sweet side, she could tell. He was maybe a little too full of himself, but if she had the brains to made a robot butler, she would be full of herself too. She understood his insensitivity. He was the smartest person she'd ever met, he'd already proved that; and rich too. He didn't have anyone to answer to. So why not be a complete jerk? He had nothing to lose. She was learning how he worked, how he ticked. She was already learning the rules to his game, and soon she'd be an expert strategist on how to play along with Mr. Tony Stark.


	4. Turning Tables

AN: Firstly, I saw the Avengers again today. Just as good as the first time!

OK. I hope you're all ready for this. Lots of drama and juicy backstory ahead. All I can say is I'm glad you guys don't mind frequent updates. I remember some people get upset when I update too quickly. You guys make me smile, by the way. Just thought I'd throw that in there.

-O-O-O-

_May 21__st__, 1995_

Tony managed to throw on a t-shirt and shorts before going out to the kitchen the next morning. He usually slept in just his boxers, but with guests around he at least tried to be halfway decent. He scratched at his head and let out a long, loud yawn on his way to the kitchen.

Virginia was bent over the counter, eating a bowl of some disgusting-looking sludge. She wore an oversized UCLA t-shirt that came to mid-thigh and covered her sleep shorts. For a moment, he thought she wasn't wearing any bottoms, and his heart sank to his stomach.

"Morning," she chimed cheerily.

"Morning. What the hell are you eating?" He peered into her bowl before turning to make a pot of coffee.

"Its cereal."

"Doesn't look like any cereal I've ever seen. That just looks like vomit."

"Its hot cereal. Its got all kinds of grains in it. Wheat, rye, oats…"

He leaned against the counter and turned to face her. His nose wrinkled up at her description. "So why are you eating it, then?"

She gave him that look again. It almost reminded him of his mother, or his au pair when he was a kid. Her lips pursed, but almost smiled at the same time, and her eyes seemed to shine a darker blue than normal.

"I'm a vegetarian." She took another bite.

"Well that's unfortunate."

She laughed. "It's actually very healthy."

"I'll stick with the classics." He pulled a box of Lucky Charms out of the cabinet.

"Mmm. Very grown-up choice, I must say," she teased.

He poured himself a bowl. "Better looking than that stuff. But, I guess you are from California, so I can understand. They call it the Land of the Fruits and Nuts."

"Funny," she said, rinsing her bowl out in the sink. She grabbed a sponge to wash it out.

"No, no. I've got a maid that does that." He stopped her.

She dropped her utensils. "You haven't washed a dish in your life, have you?"

He shrugged and smirked behind a mouthful of cereal. "How long have you been up?" He glanced at the clock on the microwave. It was only 9:15.

"Since seven. I went for a run and got a shower."

"Nice. What do you play, by the way?"

"Volleyball, basketball, cross country. Oh, and tennis, but not on a team. Just for fun."

"Whoa. That's pretty intense."

She shrugged. "I like sports."

Peter exited the guest bedroom, squinting and ruffling his bright red hair. "Good morning," he grumbled.

"Morning, sleepy head. We've got coffee, and cereal." She was obviously taking no qualms about making herself at home, Tony thought. It was like she belonged here. But it didn't bother him. He kind of…liked it. She had a knack for taking over and managing things. She had a way of being in charge without being bossy.

"What's on the agenda today?" Peter asked, moving directly to the coffee pot.

"Well, Thomas invited us to his place later. For drinks and dinner. Just to hang out." She shrugged. "Could be fun."

Peter smirked behind his cup. "Mmm…Thomas, huh?" He wiggled his blonde, barely-there eyebrows.

She smacked his stomach. "Shut up." She failed to hide her blush.

Tony felt suddenly out of place. Like he was intruding on a private brother-sister moment. He turned, without another word, to go get dressed.

-O-O-O-

Since their stuff was already in Tony's apartment, he agreed to let them stay for the rest of the two weeks they would be in Massachusetts. He normally wouldn't have agreed to that. He would've tried to pawn them off on someone else. But they were both growing on him. He'd shown Peter his other two cars in the garage downstairs, and they'd actually gotten into a talk about weapons. Peter knew his stuff, and though Tony didn't mention it, he was sure he'd make a fine soldier.

Despite his protests, he was now seated in Thomas's penthouse in Boston, sipping a glass of Guinness. Virginia had insisted he come, and when she mentioned alcohol, he gave up the fight. Upbeat music thumped from an outdated, yet decent sound system. Several other people were milling around, and the place was filling up fast. Virginia and Thomas had disappeared onto the balcony, and Tony tried to keep his thoughts on his drink and not what might be happening outside.

The door opened, and a pack of girls entered, a few of which Dean knew and immediately flocked towards, welcoming them like this was his place.

But Tony recognized one girl all too well. Victoria. Her long brown hair was curled and primped to perfection, and she wore a skin tight black skirt, and a blouse that left little to the imagination. Not that he needed to imagine. He'd seen her naked multiple times. He glared daggers into Dean's back. He could murder him for inviting her.

She stayed close to her girl friends for a good ten minutes, before sauntering over to him. She brushed a hand down his arm. "Hey Tony," she said, peeking from under false eyelashes.

"Hi."

"Nice seeing you here."

He sipped his beer and nodded. "Yep."

She leaned in close to his ear and crooned softly, "I'm thirsty. Mix me a drink?"

He balanced his beer on his knee, and finally turned to look at her, making eye contact. He gave her smile. "Sure, baby."

When he stood, her hand slipped into his and he didn't attempt to let go. In the kitchen, she stuck tight to him as he mixed her martini.

"How've you been?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Fine. How were your finals?" He'd stick to rudimentary conversation. No harm in that.

She smirked again, and her eyes rolled. "Baby, I didn't come here to talk about school." She stood on tiptoes to reach his ear again. "I didn't come here to talk at all."

He relaxed, leaning his shoulder against the pantry door. His hand wound around her hip and he pulled her closer.

-O-O-O-

Virginia held a glass of rum and coke in her bands as she leaned over the balcony, looking over the Boston skyline. She rarely drank, but contrary to what Tony thought, she could cut loose once in a while. She normally drank at parties, when she went to them. But tonight she was Peter's ride home, and this would be her only drink.

"This is a cool place," she said to Thomas, who was leaned next to her, facing the French doors that led inside.

"Thanks." He turned to look at her. Her pale skin glowed in the moon light. Her hair was pinned up neatly and she wore a flowy sundress that left her arms bare. He traced the skin of her forearm, grinning to see her freckles had multiplied from their time spent in the sun the other day.

"I missed you," he said, his hand falling back to his side.

She let out a tiny laugh, and hung her head. "Thomas."

"What? You can't just expect me to forget about what happened during spring break."

"Yeah. Well I wish I could forget." She swept a piece of loose hair behind her ear and looked back at the skyline.

"So you think it was a mistake?"

She looked at him. "We were young, Thomas."

"The same age as we are now."

"You know what I mean." She stared into the ice of her drink. "And we were drunk."

He groaned and his hands came to hair. "You're so frustrating."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Dammit, Ginny!" He lifted his weight from the balcony railing and turned to face her. The lights from the buildings below glinted in his eyes. "You expect me to just act like it never happened? What, you can't own up to it? You ashamed or something?"

"That's not…"

He cut her off. "You're so damned uptight sometimes. Why is it so hard for you to have fun?"

"_That _isn't fun."

"Well, it should be, right? I thought that's why people enjoyed it so much. Or am I wrong?" He threw his hands up.

"It isn't fun when you're drunk and wake up realizing you just gave your virginity to someone, when all your life you'd been planning to wait for marriage. It's a little earth-shattering, don't you think, Thomas?" she answered, getting a little ticked.

"Bitch…" He turned away from her, his hands on his hips.

"Excuse me?" She'd gone from ticked to fuming in five seconds. She took a step toward him, but he was still as stone. "Nothing," he answered in a whisper.

"Oh." She moved to stand in front of him. "Now who's not owning up to their mistakes?"

He made a grab for her arm, but she was too quick and tossed what remained of her drink into his face. She swung open the door, to the surprise of several girls inside who jumped out of the way, wide eyed. "Sorry. Excuse me," she snapped, shoving past them.

She didn't realize she'd started crying until she was downstairs hailing a cab to head home.

A few feet away, there was a loud giggle and someone squealed, "Stop!"

She instinctively turned toward the noise, barely making out Tony's silhouette, and some brunette he had pinned against the side of his Corvette, his hand at the nape of her neck. His deep chuckle was muffled by a passing car, and he rumbled something in the girl's ear before diving back into nibbling at her neck. The girl noticed Virginia staring. Their eyes locked for several seconds. The honk of a car horn broke the connection, and Virginia climbed into the cab waiting for her on the curb. Tony was none the wiser, lost in the tender skin of Victoria's neck.


	5. The Guilty Ones

She didn't bother turning the lights on. She sat in the dark room, at the edge of the bed, still in her dress. She'd managed to force herself to stop crying almost an hour ago. There was no point in it. What was done was done.

She hated it. She hated him. She hated admitting that she hated him. And she hated herself for letting her guard down for one night. She was supposed to be the girl who had it all together. Miss Valedictorian. Star player of the basketball team. She wasn't supposed to break rules. She wasn't supposed to have weak moments.

Peter had always told her she was too hard on herself. But to her, love wasn't something to treat flippantly, and that's exactly what Thomas had done to her. She'd woken up in his apartment, naked except for the cold, tangled sheets. He was nowhere to be found.

It had happened near the end of her first year in college. She felt like she was living the dream. She'd made a few good friends, she was excellent at her studies, and she'd managed to keep her head above water unlike some other college freshman. Peter had invited her along on the trip to visit his friends. He'd still been in school at the time, on the fence about continuing or joining up. He figured he might as well enjoy what very well might be his last spring break.

She felt like a hot shot. These were new people. She could finally break free, stray outside the lines awhile, and no one would even remember her in a few weeks. And stupidly, she'd taken advantage of that. She'd caught his eye at the party, and it honestly felt like magic. He was cute, older, charming, and he made her laugh. She flirted shamelessly, spurred on by the beers she'd had. This was what college girls did, right? He wasted no time in asking her name, asking her to dance, and later asking her to go back to his place with him.

He was sweet, and gentle, from what she remembered. Most of it was blurred by the fog of alcohol. He'd done and said all the right things. But what he never did was stop. He'd never asked her if this was ok. But then again, she'd never protested. He knew her age. She'd told him honestly. And yet he didn't stop and think what he might be doing.

Being a rebel wasn't all that people made it out to be. Rules were good. Rules were meant to be followed. That was much safer than ending up hurt. She'd gotten a taste of what it felt like to break the rules, and she never wanted to go back. After that, she vowed to always stay within the lines.

It could've been worse, she kept reminding herself. But she was a planner. And anything that interfered with that plan felt like the end of the world. This hadn't been in her plan. She expected to wait. She wanted to finish school, have a successful job, maybe one day manage her own company, and perhaps settle down. And all those things would still happen. She just hadn't gotten to the point of forgiving herself yet.

After the incident, she felt like a liar. She didn't tell her parents. They still knew her as sweet and innocent Ginny. She couldn't feel further from sweet and innocent. She hadn't told Peter. As far as Peter knew, she and Thomas were still on good terms and wrote emails back and forth frequently. Which wasn't entirely a lie. He wrote the emails, but she hardly ever responded. And she lied to Thomas too. She had pretended it was ok, and never mentioned it. It definitely wasn't ok. She just hoped he hadn't gone on to do the same thing to another girl, and broken her heart as well. She'd resolved this summer to be honest with him. To tell him how she truly felt. And this is where it had gotten her.

The silence of the apartment was broken by keys turning in the lock of the front door, and her thoughts lurched back to reality. Peter. She was supposed to drive him home, and she'd left without telling him. When she heard a high-pitched female giggle, she didn't stand to open the bedroom door. This wasn't Peter. It was Tony and the girl she'd seen earlier.

There was a soft thud against a wall, a series of unintelligible mumbles between the two partners. Then, a few seconds later, Tony's bedroom door slammed down the hall. There was another giggle from within his room, and then silence.

Her hands slid to cover her face, and she was crying again. Why, she didn't really know.

She was an idiot. Here she sat in the apartment of a billion-dollar-heir-super-genius-womanizer that she'd just met, crying in the guest bedroom while he shared his bed, just feet away from her, with some floozy, probably one of the many girls he had notched into his bedpost. She wanted to go home. She wanted to go home, and she wanted her brother.

How was he even supposed to get home? She had no way of contacting him and making sure he hadn't left the party on his own. She only hoped Thomas let him stay, or Dean took him to his place.

She lay back on the bed, burying her face in one of the feather pillows so the couple next door wouldn't be disturbed by her tears. Before she knew it, sleep took over and she gratefully succumbed to its offer of not having to think or feel.

-O-O-O-

Coffee. She smelled coffee. Coffee was good. Her eyes fluttered open, and she stretched every muscle, even wiggling her fingers and toes before nuzzling back into the pillow. Maybe five more minutes.

Tony stood near the bed, a mug of pure black brew in his hand. "Good morning…or afternoon," he said suddenly, making her jump.

She bolted upright. "What are you doing in here?" she asked, startled.

"Bringing you coffee." He held out the cup.

She took it gratefully.

"I didn't know you were here," he said softly. "I didn't see you leave the party."

"I left before you," she said quickly.

He stood awkwardly, and she sipped her coffee in silence. He looked at her dress, bunched and wrinkled from sleep. Mascara tracks gave away the fact that she'd been crying.

"You wanna talk about it?" he said after nearly three minutes. He had even surprised himself by asking.

"No. I just want my brother."

She sounded small, weak, and helpless. Like a child. And he was jealous of her for a moment. She had someone to run to. He wanted that security. He needed that, and as much as he avoided it, he knew it was despondently true. He nodded. "I'll see if I can get ahold of Dean."

He turned and retreated out of the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

She managed to get out of bed and shower. She wandered into the living room where he was plopped on the couch, TV remote in hand. She slid onto the other end of the couch, sitting up straight, her hands pressed between her knees.

"Wanna talk now?" he asked without looking at her.

"Its just teenage heartbreak, Tony. Its no big deal." Really. It wasn't. She knew she needed to get over it, pull herself up by her bootstraps and move on. This self-pity was getting her nowhere. But something in her heart just couldn't cut the cord. It was latched onto him. She'd given him a part of her that she could never get back, and she knew that was something Tony Stark probably couldn't understand.

The door pushed open and Peter stumbled inside, his eyes bloodshot and red-rimmed. "Tony, man. Got anything to cure a hangover? Because I've got a massive one." He rubbed his hand against his forehead and sagged against the wall.

"Where were you?" Ginny bolted up off the couch, sounding a little too stern than she meant to. "I was worried." Her tone softened.

"Well, that douche didn't let me stay, and I guess Dean left early. I had to sleep in the car outside."

Virginia's fists clenched at her side. She could kill him.

Peter glanced at his sister and took a few steps back. "Whoa, Ginny. Calm down. You look pissed."

Her eyes closed and she said through clenched teeth, "I'm not mad at you. I'm mad at Thomas."

"Well, I got home, didn't I? And I'm fine." He put his hands on her shoulders. "Now, I think I'm gonna go sleep a few more hours, if you two don't mind." He disappeared down the hall, and seconds later the guest bedroom door clicked into place.

She turned back to face Tony, running a hand across her forehead, and plopped back down on the couch. She ran her hands through her hair and let out a sigh.

"Hey," he said after a few moments. "You wanna go somewhere?"

"What?" she asked, looking at him, confused. Go somewhere? Was he joking right now?

"Yeah. You wanna go get something to eat?"

She wasn't sure if he meant just the two of them, or what he had in mind. "Well, I…"

He shrugged. "You look upset. So I thought you might wanna get out of here. Go burn off some steam somewhere."

"Where?"

He stood and tossed the remote where he had been sitting. He grabbed his keys from the counter and tossed them once in the air, catching them effortlessly. "Burger King."

-O-O-O-

AN: All I can say is I'm really happy about the next chapter, but I don't like updating twice in one day, so you'll all just have to wait patiently until tomorrow. Secondly, I guess I'm just slow, but I just realized you could change the layout of the screen while you read to make it 3/4 page or 1/2 page. If you review, I wanna know how you guys read? Full page? 1/2 page? Random question, but I'm interested. As always, click that button!


	6. Learning To Love Again

"But I'm a vegetarian," she protested, as they drove into the parking lot.

Tony killed the engine and threw Virginia a smirk before stepping out of his Rolls Royce. She followed suit. "Really, do we have to do this? Even the smell of meat makes me sick…" she complained, shuffling her feet towards the front door of the restaurant.

"Then I'll buy you some fries. And some ice cream. Ice cream makes everything better, right?" He held open the door for her, and she entered the restaurant with her nose wrinkled.

He scanned the menu, coming to stand next to her in line. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Nothing. Everything looks disgusting."

"Come on, Gin. Think outside the…bun." He nudged her shoulder with his own.

"That's Taco Bell."

He shrugged. "Have it your way," he joked nonchalantly and moved to the counter to order. She smiled as she stood behind him, waiting. He had a way of joking that was so dry, so passive that it was…dare she say…charming?

He turned back to face her, holding a receipt and two empty Styrofoam cups. Holding one of them out to her, he said, "I got you a large fry and a double cheeseburger."

Her shoulders sagged and she groaned. "Tony! Why?"

"To eat, duh." He rolled his eyes comically, acting like a dumb blonde.

She had to laugh. "I think you misunderstand the meaning of vegetarian." She followed behind to the fountain machine.

"And I think you vastly misunderstand the deliciousness of meat." He filled his cup with coke.

"Its not even real meat, Tony."

He turned to face her, his straw stuck between his lips. He removed it to speak. "Here. I'll cut you a deal. You eat one bite of the cheeseburger, and then you can tell me what's bothering you."

"I don't see where I benefit." She smirked, moving past him to find a table.

"No, see, that's where you're wrong. I get the joy of seeing you eat your first bite of meat in…how many years?"

"Six."

"Six years, and_ you_ get to get stuff off your chest. Not to mention, the burgers are delicious."

A bus boy appeared and slid the tray onto their table, but did a double take in Tony's direction. Tony threw him a smirk, and held out a fifty. "Thanks, man."

The man's hand shook as he pointed to the bill. "C-can…can you sign that?" he asked, visibly star struck.

"Yeah, sure. Got a pen?"

The bus boy fumbled in his apron for a Sharpie and handed it over.

Tony scribbled his signature on the note, just above Grant's face.

His hands shook as he accepted the bill. "Thank you, Mr. Stark."

"Please. Mr. Stark is my father. Its Tony. Have a good night, Fred," he said, glancing at the man's name tag. The man hurried away, clutching the fifty dollar bill like it was one of the Ten Commandment tablets written in God's own hand.

"That's illegal," Virginia said.

"What? Giving an autograph?"

"Writing on money."

He rolled his eyes. "Please. That guy will keep that bill forever." He reached for his burger, but Virginia stared at the tray in disdain.

"Go on, try it," he said with a full mouth.

"No," she answered, her nose wrinkled up.

She looked so cute when she did that, and he had to stop himself before he told her so.

"Just one bite?" He pouted, and she wanted to tell him how sexy he looked with those big brown puppy dog eyes.

She lifted the greasy paperweight from the tray and slowly unwrapped it. "Ugh! Gross. This looks disgusting!"

"Of course it does. It isn't supposed to look like the picture."

She raised an eyebrow at him, and looked back down at the burger. She took the smallest of bites, having to force herself to chew. The meat tasted much too salty and the vegetables were obviously not the best quality. She fought not to spit it out.

She swallowed in a hurried gulp and Tony laughed. She noticed how his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.

"That was horrible." She pushed the offending item of food away.

He continued to laugh and picked up the burger, moving it to his side of the table. "So tell me what's up."

She groaned, and pressed her palms to her temples, elbows on the table.

"Come on. Spit it out." He took a slurp from his drink.

She was quiet a few more minutes, before speaking. "Well, Thomas and I…kind of had a thing."

"Figured." He swiped a French fry through his ketchup, and she stole one from his box.

"Stuff just kind of…blew up last night."

Something flickered in his eyes, almost like rage, and she suddenly felt a little scared. "No! Nothing like that. He was just trying to get back together with me, and I refused, so he got kind of pissed. _Nothing _happened."

"Well…I'm no Romeo, but I at least know when a girl doesn't want to be with me, she doesn't want to be with me. I'm not going to force her to. Not that there have been many women who don't want me."

She smirked and rolled her eyes. Tony. Ever humble.

They were both quiet for a long time. She munched her fries, while he made a dent in both burgers. Suddenly he spoke. "I'm glad you came."

Her head snapped up. "What?" She ignored the flutter in her heart.

He backpedaled. "I mean…here. I'm glad you came here. With me." Lame. Stupid and Lame. Why couldn't he have kept his mouth shut? He mentally kicked himself.

"Right," she said, looking back at the table.

"And to Mass. It's nice to have you I mean…you and your brother…are cool."

She smiled. "Thanks I guess."

There was another silence, this one dripping with awkwardness. "Um…" he said, finally breaking the tension. "What are you doing after this? I mean not here…I mean after you leave Cambridge."

"Oh. Going to North Carolina for the rest of summer until Peter leaves for basic. You should come down?"

He smiled. "We'll see."

And just like that, he distanced himself. She was getting too close for comfort. He considered her a friend, almost. And that was just too weird. She was a sweet girl, and her neurotic tendencies weren't near as annoying to him as he had first thought. Actually, they were kind of endearing. But friendship with women led to other things, and Tony was in no position, nor did he want to be tied down to anyone.

"I should give you my phone number, and my email address. So we can keep in touch," she offered.

"Um. Sure." What harm could it do? It wasn't like she would be here in the flesh. He had no strings attached that way. When he wanted to, he could just stop calling.

"Are you staying in Cambridge all summer?"

"Yup."

"Not going home?"

"Nope."

"How come? I'm sure your parents would love to see you. I know mine have been begging me to come home since Easter."

She'd gone and done it. She'd said the one word he didn't want to hear. Parents. "Yeah well…my parents and I aren't on the best of terms."

"Oh..."

"Not your fault." He shrugged and swirled a fry in his ketchup. "Dad's busy with the business. Never has time for anything else. And then when I don't show up for such-and-such party, suddenly I'm the one who's messed up. And mom just lets him dish it out."

She looked interested, so he continued. He wasn't sure where the words were coming from.

"See, Dad's philosophy is that something has to be perfect before it can become loveable."

"But, I don't understand. You're wicked smart. How can he not be proud of that?"

"Dunno. I just remember…being five years old. The first time reporters had actually come to our house. I guess my…" He sighed and rolled his eyes, "outstanding ability had gotten around to the press, and they wanted to do this big thing about me and Dad. They took pictures and asked me a bunch of questions about the stuff I'd been creating at the time. I felt really cool." He smiled at the memory. "Like…I had always watched Dad do all these interviews and press conferences. I felt important, like him. And I felt like he was proud of me for once. He smiled in all the pictures, and at one point I remember he hugged me. He never hugged me. And then, once all the reporters had left, he just marched off to his workshop and…" He shrugged. "…then my nanny took me out for ice cream. That was probably…the only time I felt like I mattered in his eyes. And it was all a show." He shrugged again, still swirling the same fry in the ketchup.

"Tony…" Her hand reached across the table and rested on his arm.

He gave her a sad smile. "I don't know why I told you that."

She smiled back. A genuine smile. "I'm glad you did."

His smile grew a bit. He would never admit it, but it felt nice to talk to someone that cared.

"You ready to go?"

She nodded and stood.

Once they were back inside the car and out of the parking lot, he cranked up the radio. The beginning lyrics blasted through the expensive speakers: "Wake up Maggie, I think I've got something to say to you. Its late September and I really should be back at school…"

Beneath the blaring music, he heard her singing faintly from the passenger seat. He glanced at her and smirked. He began singing too, and soon they were both shouting lyrics back and forth, competing to see who could be the loudest. They sang through Brown Eyed Girl, laughed through Money For Nothing by Dire Straits. Tony made a detour, just so they could go through a few more songs. This girl had good taste in music, knew cars, and that was a major turn on, he had to admit. They battled it out through Bohemian Rhapsody, shouting the lyrics back and forth at one another, and she played air guitar to Brown Sugar. He serenaded her, quite comically, to Oh Sherrie.

When they finally got back to his place, they danced in the drive way, singing their own version of Sheena Is A Punk Rocker. They joined hands, and spun a circle, a little too fast and she let out a scream. They broke away, both in stitches, laughing so loud Tony was surprised someone hadn't come to investigate.

She put a hand on his chest, trying to steady herself. He grabbed her elbow, and the other hand went to rest on her waist. Their giggles faded to chuckles, and then they were both silent when they'd become so close to one another that It was almost intimate. He watched her clear blue eyes glitter, reflecting the streetlights. His hand rounded her hip to rest on her back and he hitched her closer to him. Her petite hand still rested on his chest, and was now sandwiched between them. She let out a little surprised breath. His head tilted slightly, and instinctively her eyelids fluttered shut. There was an intake of breath and…

"We should go inside," he said, and the spell was broken.

-O-O-O-

AN: ARGH! I wish this was in 1999 and I could've put in Meet Virginia by Train. That would've been so perfect! I thought about Sweet Virginia by the Stones, but that's about pills soo….anyways. I really liked this chapter, and I hope you did too. Thank you to my unofficial-beta, Madie-Loo. You are my Bruce Banner, for serious. I'm a huge fan of how you turn into a giant green rage monster.

And in case you are wondering why Tony signed an autograph when he isn't Iron Man yet, I figure he's still famous because of his dad. He's still been in the public eye, at least a little, so people know who he is. Anyways, I thought I'd give my reasoning behind that in case some people had a problem.

Review and you'll be my favorite person! Click that button. You know you want to.


	7. Lady Love

_May 28, 1995_

Tony stared from the kitchen as she plopped another bag next to the door, finally finished hauling their stuff out of his guest room. Peter was pulling the car around.

He wouldn't say it, but he didn't want them to leave. He'd found something in both of them…something that was the closest thing to friendship he'd ever had. He would be alone again. His world would be quiet once more. At the beginning of the week he'd been annoyed by their presence, but now he just wanted them to stay forever. He was so dependent and he didn't even know it. He found something he liked and latched onto it, and kicked like a child if he was forced to let it go.

She swung around to face him, brushing her bangs out of her eyes. "Phew. I think that's all."

He didn't comment, heedless of what to say. He just stood in the kitchen, beer in hand.

Since their—almost—kiss a few night ago, he had completely avoided anything that had to do with the subject, and had spent not a single moment alone with her. He always made sure someone else was around when she was present. He couldn't do a summer romance. That just wasn't him. It was too much like a romance novel. As cute as she was, as sweet and perfect, he couldn't do the long distance thing. He'd screw it up somewhere down the road, he just knew it. His insatiable appetite would overcome him, and he'd screw around with some other girl and break her heart. He was destructive. He couldn't subject her to that.

"Thanks for letting us stay, Tony. Really. I appreciate it." She smiled. Even her teeth were perfect. He had to look away.

"Yeah. Well its no problem."

"So…you think you might visit North Carolina this summer?" she asked, still grinning when he looked back at her.

"I might," he whispered.

She nodded, and her smile faltered just a bit before she looked down at the counter, her fingers coming up to drum against it just so she would have something to do with her hands.

Her hands were small, quite petite, there were even slight dimples at her knuckles. He wondered briefly how she managed a basketball with such childlike hands. He didn't hold himself back when his hand moved on top of hers.

Her crystal eyes flickered to him. Her lips were parted just slightly, as if she wanted to speak but didn't know what to say. He saw on her face how much she wanted to tell him the truth. How much she wanted to admit she needed him too. But it wasn't appropriate. It wasn't logical to get tangled up in him. There were too many things wrong.

But instead of retreating like he should have, his hand came to her waist, and she boosted herself on tip toes, her breathing hitching in her throat. His dark brown eyes stared into hers, but hers weren't as bright blue as usual. They were indigo, almost navy, darkened with her own ache for the things she couldn't say. Her hand rested on his shoulder, and her warmth radiated through his plain t-shirt, reassuring him. His fingertips tipped her chin up til their lips were level.

"Hey, you ready Gin?" Peter burst through the door, and they two sprang apart. She combed her hair behind her ears. "Um…yeah." She cleared her throat and hurried to help him with the bags.

-O-O-O-

_May 29, 1995_

Rosa had found the note when she was cleaning the bedroom. She'd saved it, saying she thought it might be important.

In perfectly straight penmanship, Virginia had written, "Hey you, I thought these might come in handy." Her phone number and address were written below.

He'd been turning the paper over his hands for the last two hours since Rosa left. He hadn't moved from the couch.

What was happening to him? He couldn't get her face out of his mind. That smile, those freckles. That fiery red hair; the way she would try and wear it down, but it would inevitably end up in a ponytail anyways. How she wrinkled her nose when she was disgusted, or laughing. What had she done to him? Usually, he'd go for blonde and busty, but he'd fallen for what he once considered a Plain Jane. But looks weren't the only thing. She was funny, and snarky, and she knew just what buttons to press when she wanted to. He figured girls flocked to him because he was attractive, because he was rich, because he could help them jump through a few hoops at MIT. Never had it gone any deeper than that. Never had he told anyone about his parents, at least not a girl. Never had he been with any woman who he wanted more than a night with.

But she wasn't coming back. The chances of him actually calling her were slim. He just couldn't bring himself to. He knew of only one way to forget, and that was alcohol. He needed a drink.

-O-O-O-

By midnight, he'd lost count of how many drinks he'd had. The lights of the bar blurred as he tried to focus. A gentle hand slid around his waist, and a brunette slid onto the stool next to him, saying something he didn't quite catch over the music, but he recognized her vaguely. Victoria? Right, that was her name. There were too many women with names that started with V, he mused, before leaning in to kiss her.

-O-O-O-

_May 30__th__, 1995_

A slender hand sliding up his bare chest jolted him suddenly awake. His head turned to look at the woman lying next to him, sheets tangled around her otherwise naked body. Her hair was too perfect, her arms too thin, and her hand felt out of place against his chest. It was all wrong.

He pushed himself up, leaning on his palms, and in turn she stirred.

"Mmm…Good morning," she purred, lifting a hand to his hair.

He just stared back in response, his face blank. He backed away from her touch.

"What's wrong?" she laughed, leaning her head on her elbow.

Mute, he stood from the bed and tossed the sheets back. On the floor, her clothes were indistinguishable from his own, strewn around the room in the commotion of the past night. So instead, he spotted her black stilettos by the door. He scooped them up, and set them on the mattress. "Its time to go," he said softly.

"What?" she asked, sitting up, holding the sheets around her chest.

"Leave," he said, emotionless. He snatched his jeans from the mess on the floor and slid them on.

She rose from the bed and began picking up her clothes. "But I don't…"

He turned for the door, leaving her to collect her things. She was gone before his coffee had even finished brewing.

-O-O-O-

_June 2__nd__, 1995_

Dean rambled on, but Tony had lost interest minutes ago. He just nodded passively when appropriate and answered affirmatively when asked a question. Otherwise, his gaze was occupied elsewhere. A petite red head sat among a group of girls a few tables away. Every so often, her head would get thrown back in laughter. He watched intently, and by now he could time just right when she would laugh at something he friends had said. He waited patiently for a glimpse at her face.

He knew it wasn't her, but he just wanted to see her face. To see if she was even half as pretty as her. He imagined it was her. He imagined her, thousands of miles away, sitting with her friends at a similar diner. Just to give himself a bit of comfort that somewhere in the universe, she still did exist.

When the group stood from their table, he saw that she was much too old, and had too much makeup on. She was trying too hard. There were no freckles, and her hair wasn't at all the right shade of red.

-O-O-O-

_June 5__nd__, 1995_

He lifted his safety goggles and leaned back from his work. He'd been cooped up in his garage for days, working on his cars or working on new prototypes for this year's robotic competition. He liked to get a head start, not that it was really needed.

He'd only been out of the shop to sleep and eat. He had Darwin down here to help him, keep him company. But a robot with a very limited vocabulary was poor company, and now Darwin laid in pieces on his work bench. He'd decided to update his software, but was so easily distracted, springing from project to project without completion. So for now Darwin had been abandoned. Perhaps he would do away with the robot altogether and do something more simple. An AI? Yeah, that'd be cool, and less meddlesome. He could just mute the thing whenever he wanted. It would be like having a friend without having to deal with their physical presence. But for now, he tucked the idea in the back of his mind and leaned back under the hood of his Corvette.

Work kept him busy, kept his mind away from other things. He could use the distraction more than ever these days. At least it was productive. More productive than drinking himself into unconsciousness, though that sounded promising too, at the moment.

-O-O-O-

_June 10__th__, 1995_

His resolve had broken. He couldn't do it. He couldn't stay away. His fingers curled and uncurled around the leather armrest of his first class seat as he tried to keep himself calm. To his right, the business man next to him had fallen asleep after losing interest in Tony when he wouldn't give up the juicy news about the new missile his father was producing.

Otherwise, he was ignored by the other passengers except for being turned down by the flight attendant when he asked for alcohol. Apparently his fake ID didn't fool her, and he noticed later that she sat in her jump seat reading a gossip magazine. Obviously she'd heard of him.

He couldn't stand to have one more dream about _her _face. Couldn't handle one more dream about seeing red heads in class, or at restaurants and realizing they weren't her. He hadn't slept in almost two days because eventually seeing those obnoxious, gorgeous freckles in his mind every night was too much, and he'd tried everything he could to combat sleep.

They began their decent into North Carolina and he braced himself. He had a hotel booked for a week. Hopefully she let him stay that long and he wouldn't have to fly back early. Things could either go horribly wrong or fall perfectly into place, and he was hoping it was the latter. He always got what he wanted, and that was a fact. And what he wanted was her.

-O-O-O-

He'd gotten a car, and followed the address she had left him on the paper. He wandered around town for nearly an hour before he found the correct community. The place was filled with quaint little houses, all very old-fashioned looking, and none too small. Obviously her parents were pretty well off. Her house was the last one on the street, near the dead end. It wasn't very small, but not the Long Island mansion his parents owned. She and her brother were playing basketball in the driveway, and he could hear them heckling each other as he pulled up. She dodged around him and made a flawless jump shot, throwing her hands up in victory. Peter pointed to the car pulling in the drive, causing her to turn.

She was wearing very little makeup, and her hair was pulled up in a ponytail, her bangs swept off her face. She wore a plain grey tank with basketball shorts. Never before had Tony found a woman more attractive.

He slid out of the car. Assuming the game was now over, Peter picked up the forgotten basketball and disappeared around the side of the house to the shed.

"Well, well. Look who it is," she said, smiling, hands on her hips.

He shrugged and ran a hand along the back of his neck. "I just…" he sighed, dropped his hand and shrugged again. He gave her an anxious smile, hoping that would suffice for his lack of words.

The corner of her mouth quirked up. "Well, are you going to kiss me, or what?"

Needing no further instruction, his hands found her hips and pulled her to him. He bent to press his lips to hers. Her arms wound around his neck so she could pull herself closer. She responded eagerly to the kiss, stealing several more, not wanting to break off so quickly. Her fingers tangled in his hair when he pulled away, forcing him to keep some sort of contact.

She smiled up at him and let out a little laugh.

"Weird?" he asked.

"No, its not weird." She smiled.

"Ok. Run that by me again." He bent down for another kiss.


	8. Stop The Car

AN: You guys, seriously. You are just too awesome. Quit with all the compliments (just kidding, don't stop). Just. Cannot. Deal. I've never gotten such positive feedback. Thank you guys! *faints from emotions*

OK, I think some of you think this is about to be over, but its got a ways to go. I don't plan on stopping any time soon. We're got three years of time to cover here, people! I might separate those years into separate stories though, making this a trilogy…or a quartet. We'll see how many chapters this one has, and if I decide to separate them, I will.

By the way, I've added chapter names. They are song titles. I've tried to fit them to the feel of each chapter, so if you wanted to, you could listen as you read. It took me forever, taking each character's emotions into account, as well as pacing, and I hope the list fits the story well. I will add the name and artist to the beginning of each chapter from here on out, but here's a list of the previous ones, if you care. By the way, my music taste is all over the place, so it's a compilation of everything. If you decide to take a listen, I hope you can see why I picked each song. Here's the list:

Chapter 1: Hand Covers Bruise – The Social Network Soundtrack  
Chapter 2: Virginia May – Gregory Alan Isakov  
Chapter 3: Here Is A Heart – Jenny Owen Youngs  
Chapter 4: Turning Tables – Adele  
Chapter 5: The Guilty Ones – Spring Awakening Soundtrack  
Chapter 6: Learning to Love Again – Matt Kearney  
Chapter 7: Lady Love – Mike Mains & The Branches  
Chapter 8: Stop the Car – Mike Mains & The Branches

-O-O-O-

_June 11__th__, 1995_

Never in his life had he expected to be sitting in a Hilton hotel room in North Carolina, the queen sized bed crowded with various bags of candy and chips, with Back to The Future on TV and a certain red head tucked under his arm.

Her head lolled onto his shoulder, and her hand rested against his chest. She was clad in cutoffs and a plain t-shirt, her feet bare.

They'd bought at least fifty dollars' worth of snacks, unable to decide on just what they wanted. But he didn't mind. They'd emptied a bag of Whoppers, Reese's Pieces, M&Ms, and at least one bag of chips and hadn't even made a dent in their smorgasbord. He learned that she preferred chocolate, because most kinds of fruity candy had gelatin in it, which she didn't eat since she was vegetarian. But he had bought several bags of gummy worms and candy octopuses for himself, saying, "More for me then!"

He glared at the TV, his hyperactive brain analyzing every movement the Doc made. "This guy is a quack," he said, through a mouthful of potato chips. "To time travel, that car would have to generate huge amounts of energy. Way more energy than what's needed to go eighty miles an hour, and he'd have to travel way farther than just across a parking lot."

She rolled her eyes. "Just watch the movie, Tony."

"The least they could do is make it scientifically correct."

"Oh." She rolled her eyes. "Maybe they should've consulted you."

"Please, this is kid stuff. When they made this movie I was seven years old. His inventions are like crayon drawings compared to what I was doing back then. I would've never sold myself out like that."

"I'm sure you were quite the prodigy."

"Pssshhh. I still am."

"Oh, and so modest as well."

"There's no room for modesty when you're this remarkable."

"Sometimes I wonder how anyone around you can breathe, when your ego fills up the whole room." She rolled her eyes.

He looked down at her and kissed her cheek. "You staying?"

"I can. My parents aren't expecting me home."

"How'd you pull that one?"

"I told them I was sleeping over at a girlfriend's house."

"Whoa, whoa. Wait, wait. Did Virginia Potts…lie? To her parents? This must be a sign…" He gasped dramatically.

Her fingers played at his collar. "A sign of what?"

"Of the bad influence I've been on you. I don't think its healthy for you to be around me." His hand trailed along her thigh.

She felt suddenly flushed. "No. Not healthy at all. In any sense of the word." She gestured to the mass amounts of food still littering the bed.

He chuckled and his lips found her neck. She sighed quietly, blithely, pulling him closer. Her hand trailed along his chest, resting between them when he pressed against her. His lips at her neck became more heated and she pulled at his hair, but he took it as encouragement to keep going. She tried to ignore the churning feeling in her stomach and focus on him. His breath was in her ear, warming her skin. He nudged her to lean back on the mattress, but she just propped herself on her elbows.

His lips found her mouth again and his hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of her shirt, running along her belly button, rough against her smooth skin. At first she didn't really mind, but his hand hitched further upwards and she pulled back from the kiss.

She gave him a reproachful look and pushed herself up into a sitting position. "I should go. Its getting late."

"But I thought you said were staying all night?"

"Yeah…I'm just really tired."

"Well we can sleep here. You don't have to leave."

"No but…I have a…thing tomorrow…" She stood and began to wander the room as if she were looking for her things so she could leave. "Really early, and I need to get some rest so…"

He moved to the edge of the bed. "Ginny." He tried to catch her attention.

She grabbed her keys from the desk. "And then my mom wants to have lunch, so I'm just gonna go…and maybe we can do something tomorrow night?"

He reached out and caught her hand as she made a break for the door. "Ginny, I get it. Its fine. Just…stay here, and I promise I won't try to do anything else."

Her eyes turned that navy color again. "Sorry," she sighed.

"No, don't be." He tugged her forward and wrapped both arms around her waist. Her fingers instinctively went to his hair.

"I'm just…a selfish pig," he said, still smiling like he wasn't afraid to admit it.

That's where she differed from other girls. Other girls would jump at a chance to bed Tony Stark, but she was more concerned about keeping her own virtue, and he admired that.

She laughed. "Thanks for…"

"Being such an understanding, caring individual? Yes, I know."

She shoved his shoulder. "Your modesty becomes you, Mr. Stark."

He smirked arrogantly and shrugged.

-O-O-O-

_June 12th, 1995_

He woke up with his nose buried in her hair. They'd both fallen asleep in their clothes, propped up against the pillows. It was a wonder they got any kind of sleep in this position. She was leaned against him, her head on his chest, her petite fingers moving with the rhythm of his breathing. Her hair smelled like some flower he couldn't place. He didn't want to move and risk waking her.

Her face was partially obscured, pressed against his chest. All he could see from his angle was her right cheek, peppered with freckles. Hmmm….Pepper. He liked that.

-O-O-O-

That evening they went down to the boardwalk. The feeling of her hand in his as they walked among the crowd was inexpressible. She'd dressed up more than usual and she looked fantastic. She wore a floral sundress with a light, cream-colored sweater. Her hair was pinned up off her neck, but pieces of it had come loose due to the constant sea breeze blowing through it.

He pulled her closer to him as they walked and whispered, rumbling and low, into her ear, "You look great."

She chuckled lightly. "Oh…gosh…" She looked away from him, trying to hide her blush.

After a few more moments, she looked at him and asked, "Wanna ride the teacups?"

"I've never ridden them before," he admitted.

"Really?" Her face brightened in delight. "You're from New York. You've never been to Coney Island?"

He shrugged. His parents had never taken him, and his nanny was too elderly to take him on any rides. By the time he could take himself, he was booted off to boarding school.

With a smile she tugged him towards the line that snaked around the gate and past the Ferris wheel. After only a few minutes of waiting, he was getting impatient. He shifted his weight and huffed.

"Do you always have to do this? This is maddening." He glared over shoulder towards the ride operator.

"It's been five minutes." She rolled her eyes with a grin.

"This better be worth it," he complained.

"Haven't you ever been to Disneyland?" she asked.

"No, but if I had been I wouldn't have to wait in line. It's called being famous," he said nonchalantly.

"It's called using your fame to get special treatment."

"Well that's what fame is for isn't it?" He smirked.

Her hands slid up to his shoulders and she kissed him gently. "Just pretend you're a normal guy, hanging out with a normal girl, among other normal people."

He looked around him, his hands stuffed in his pockets. "Normal is boring." He pouted.

She smacked his chest and turned forward in line. In another thirty minutes, they finally got to the front of the line. She led him toward an empty spot. He waved a finger at the wheel at the center. "What's this for? Do we have to spin ourselves? Is this normal, too?"

She laughed and swept her dress underneath her before sitting down. "Yes, essentially. It makes us spin faster."

"But isn't that what that guy is for?" He gestured to the ride operator. "Is he even qualified to run this thing?"

"Think of it like outer space," she said, putting it in science terms for him. "This entire ride spins, like the Milky Way. Then, this group of cups spins separately from those, like planets orbiting a star. And then the cup itself spins, like the rotation of the earth. You might wanna sit down, by the way."

He plopped onto the seat just in time. The ride picked up speed and she took hold of the wheel. Soon, he got more comfortable and reached over to help her spin it. She threw her head back in laughter and the wind blew her hair in all directions. She let out a yell, and he followed suit, throwing his hands up.

The ride slowed all too soon and they were ushered off. Her arm slipped around his waist. "Have fun?"

"Yeah. It was realatively…normal." He smiled down at her.

-O-O-O-

Later, they sat in a secluded spot at the edge of the boardwalk, both munching on corndogs and fries, and sharing a sundae.

"What happened to being a vegetarian?" he asked, as she took a bite after dipping her corndog in ketchup.

She shrugged and smirked. "I think I'm giving it up."

"Oh thank God," he sighed. "So…you want a funnel cake?"

"As long as its without strawberries. I'm allergic."

"You're just full of dietary restrictions, aren't you?"

She smirked and shrugged one shoulder, taking a bite from the sundae.

"So, do you want to meet my parents?" she asked after a beat.

He looked up at her. "Parents don't like me. Or maybe it's the other way around…" he mused to himself, trying to keep the mood light.

"Well…its kind of awkward. I mean, you're here, and I'm spending a lot of time with you. I'd just like them to know who you are."

He sighed, exasperated. Parents tended to ruin everything. Once the family was brought in, they'd be analyzing his every move. Not to mention meeting her parents made things just that much more serious. They'd start to push the eight-letter 'M' word. Having parents involved in a relationship this complicated couldn't turn out well. But to appease her, he looked up at her. "Sure, I'll do it. When are where?"

"Dinner? Tomorrow?"

"Fine."

He only hoped it would be quick and painless.

-O-O-O-

"Did you have fun?" she asked, leaning against the side of his car, which was parked by the curb in front of her parent's house.

"Yeah it was cool." He rocked back on his heels, his hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Good. And by the way, don't be nervous about tomorrow. If they get too intrusive, I'll shut them up."

"No big deal."

She nodded. She leaned forward to kiss him. "Well, goodnight," she said, stepping into the soft, neatly-mown grass of the front yard.

"Pepper, wait." He grabbed her hand before she got too far.

When she turned, she looked amused. "What did you say?"

"I said wait." He backpedaled, inwardly cursing his brain for letting that slip.

"No, before that."

"Well, before that, you were kissing me. We can go back to that, if you want."

"No. You called me something. You said Pepper."

"No I didn't."

"Yes you did. Who's that, some other chick?" she teased, raising an eyebrow.

"No. That's…that's…well, it kind of slipped…Its like a nickname, I guess…Because you have…" He waved his hand in front of his face, "…freckles…I didn't even mean to say it. See you tomorrow." He turned to open his car door, but she yanked him back towards her and pulled his lips against hers.

When she pulled back, she was grinning. He opened his mouth to say something, but she turned and dashed quickly through the grass, up the drive and into the house, leaving him open-mouthed and alone on the curb.


	9. Walking Contradiction

Walking Contradiction – Green Day

-O-O-O-

_June 13__th__, 1995_

The Potts house was simple, antique, and extremely neat. It was the sort of house where the floor boards creaked when you walked too heavily, unafraid to show its age. Tony assumed it was probably built in the early 1900s, and couldn't have been cheap. But the Potts' showed no other indications of having money, or at least they chose not be showy with their money, like his parents. The house was furnished with antiques, but wasn't tacky. He was almost afraid to touch anything as he sat in the lounge room on a vintage, floral couch.

A picture on the end table caught his eye and he reached out for it. A young Virginia had her arms around the neck of a huge white and grey husky. Her hair was pulled into braids on either side of her head and she wore a dainty baby-blue Easter dress that reminded him of the color of her eyes. He replaced the frame and picked up the one beside it. Peter and Virginia were on a beach, with their arms thrown around each other, both toddlers. Virginia had missing teeth and Peter's long curls hung in his eyes.

His musings were interrupted by heels clicking against the wood floor, headed his direction. He quickly replaced the frame, but in his haste he knocked over a rather expensive looking vase. He jumped up to catch it, doing so successfully, but someone cleared their throat in the doorway.

He looked up at Pepper. She wore a slim fitting deep purple dress and black heels. A string of pearls accented her slender neck. Her hair was half-way pinned up, falling over both shoulders. She always had a way of looking so elegant.

"What are you doing?" she asked, letting out a little chuckle at his current position, halfway bent over, holding her mother's vase between his hands.

"Oh, um…just…admiring this…beautiful…thing." He replaced the vase delicately on the table and arranged the picture frames around it. "There. Sorry. I was just…um…looking at Pippi Longstocking, here." He pointed to the picture of her with the braids. She moved beside him to look and rolled her eyes.

"Very funny," she said, bemused.

"You were a cute kid, Pep. With the bucked teeth and everything."

"I didn't have bucked teeth!" She snatched up the picture frame, looking closer.

"You still do, but it's nothing to be ashamed of."

Her mother rounded the corner, peeking out of the kitchen. "You two ready?"

Pepper replaced the picture frame. "Yeah, coming." She turned to Tony, with a teasing smirk. She pointed a finger at him. "We'll finish this later, Stark."

"Oh will we now?" he chuckled, pinching her waist before following her into the dining room. Mrs. Potts was loading dishes onto the wide mahogany table. Who Tony assumed was Mr. Potts sat at the head of the table, looking just as intimidating as Tony had imagined. His graying hair was smoothed back, and his shirt was buttoned to the very top, making him look even more stiff and uptight. Tony noticed that his eyes matched Pepper's, but his were outlined by thick-framed glasses. Peter sat beside him, and waved to Tony when they entered.

"There you are, pumpkin," her father said, opening his arms wide for Pepper to come around and give him a hug, which she did. He kissed her cheek and threw a look at Tony, which told Tony, very blatantly, how this man already felt about him. "Tony Stark," he said, now observing him over the rim of his glasses. "Well, I can say I never thought I'd have someone like you in our dining room." His eyes were set, turning stony as they observed him.

Tony looked at the floor. "Um…yeah, I never thought I'd be here either," he blurted stupidly, unable to come up with anything better.

Pepper came back around to meet him and lead him to a seat.

"Pumpkin?" he whispered in her ear.

"Shut up," she mouthed quietly, with narrowed eyes.

Mrs. Potts came into the room with the last dish. "Ah, there. I think we're ready," she said, satisfied.

Pepper slid into the chair on the other side of her father, and Tony sat next to her.

Mrs. Potts perched at the opposite side of the table, across from her husband. Tony felt suddenly like he was at one of his father's board meetings, and shifted uneasily in his chair. The woman's hands clasped together, her forearms propped neatly against the edge of the table. The rest of the family followed suit, except Tony.

Her throat cleared delicately. "Tony," she said, making him almost jump. "Would you say grace?"

"Um…" his eyes darted around the table. "No."

Pepper kicked him under the table.

"I mean no thank you."

Now it was Pepper's turn to clear her throat. Peter piped up first. "I'll do it, Mom." He murmured a quick prayer while Tony sat stone still in his chair, thankful that their eyes were closed for a few moments so he wouldn't be under their gaze.

"Very nice, Pete," Mr. Potts praised him, and reached for the dish of green beans. The rest of the family took this as the signal to dig in, and the various plates were passed from person to person.

"I made a special plate for you dear," Mrs. Potts said to her daughter. Pepper looked thankful, but said, "Oh, Mom. You didn't need to. I'm not…a vegetarian anymore."

The room became suddenly silent. "Oh," Mrs. Potts hummed, "Well…that's a change."

"So, Tony. Where is it you go to school? I don't believe Virginia's told us," Mr. Potts asked.

"Oh…MIT," he said, sitting up straighter in his chair.

"Ah, yes I remember reading that now." Had this guy done a background check or something? "And your major?"

"I have two. Physics and engineering."

"Wow. And you're a grad student?" Mrs. Potts asked in disbelief.

He nodded. "Yeah. This is my last year."

"Do you have any sort of focus?" Mr. Potts asked, passing the peas to his son.

"Well…" Finally, a question he could answer in more than three words. "For my master's I've done a lot of mechanical engineering, working on weapons, engines, that kind of thing. I did some things with chemical reactions. I wrote my thesis on the necessity of the nuclear bomb as weapons evolved, and how ultimately it was our destiny as man to create such a powerful weapon…"

He felt Mr. Potts' eyes on him and felt suddenly hot. He tugged at his tie.

"Um…I really like robotics," he said lamely, pushing his mashed potatoes around on his plate.

"Mom, he's got these cool robots at his house," Pepper said excitedly. "He showed me how one worked. It was really impressive."

"They were for a competition," he offered dryly.

"Did you win this competition?" Mr. Potts asked.

"Well, no not this last year. My team came in second. I think they got tired of me winning in past years, so they rigged it." He smirked, and Mrs. Potts let out a genuine laugh.

Dinner continued amiably with no questions that were too terribly personal. Thankfully. He was actually quite fond of Mrs. Potts, though Mr. Potts was another story. Tony got the vibe from him that he was always expecting the utmost from his children and wouldn't accept anything less. It might just be his imagination, but he reminded him too much of his own father. And he didn't like the way he looked at him, like he was scum. Maybe it was because he was dating his daughter, but Tony could tell he didn't like him. Honestly, the feelings were mutual.

-O-O-O-

After dinner, the two of them retreated to her room upstairs. It was obviously still the room of a little girl. She had various trophies stacked on top of her dresser, drawings on the wall, and various stuffed animals on the window sill. Makeup was strewn haphazardly across the vanity, but other than that the room was entirely pristine. Not a stitch of clothing or anything else blocked the floor. His own room at home wasn't so neat. And when it was, he wasn't the one who cleaned it.

He plopped on her bed, shoes and all, and she threw him a look before going to the closet to toss her heels inside.

"See that wasn't so bad." She leaned against wall.

"No. I think your mom has the hots for me."

"Gross."

He picked up the book on her bedside table, but found that it was only some cheesy romance novel. "Oh, darn. I thought this was your diary." He tossed it back carelessly and stood, sauntering over to her.

"Careful," she warned him. "My dad's still on the prowl."

His hands slid over her hips. "I could take him," he said, leaning in to kiss her.

Her knees wobbled and she wrapped her arms around his neck, not really caring if they were caught.

When they broke away shortly for air, he tickled her waist and she jumped. She let out a breathy laugh and kissed him again. But that wasn't the reaction he wanted. He tickled her again and her knees finally buckled and she slid down the wall a little ways. "Don't you dare," she said with a smile, trying to push him away.

He grinned mischievously and attacked her again. This time she crumpled completely, thudding to the floor in a fit of giggles. His fingers never left her body as he jumped on top of her, straddling her hips, but only so he could keep her pinned down as he continued his assault. She tried, through her laughter to push him off, but to no avail. She let out a squeal when he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"Please stop, I can't…!" she begged through her laughter, but he didn't listen.

She tried to wiggle away, but he was too strong.

"No! Get off, you're too heavy!" she pleaded.

"Oh, you callin' me fat?" he asked, moving to tickle her neck.

"NO!" She squealed again and finally shoved him off in a burst of adrenaline, pinning him to the floor now. Her hair tickled his cheek when she tossed it over one shoulder, gazing down at him.

They were both laughing and trying to catch their breath. His hand moved to cup her cheek.

The door creaked open, but thankfully it was only Peter. He gave them an odd look. "Um…dessert's ready." He hurried away without shutting the door behind him.

-O-O-O-

The family reassembled around the table, and Mrs. Potts' homemade trifle was dished out into elegant long-stemmed glasses for each person, sans strawberries for Virginia, of course.

"So, Tony. I read in the paper about your father's new line of weapons. Pretty impressive," Mr. Potts said.

"Oh…um…thanks." Tony nodded.

"Although, I'd like to know how he feels about his work. I wonder if you could tell me. Does he have any regrets? Does he realize that he's creating the very things that bring us to war in the first place?"

Tony really didn't want to get into this conversation, but he replied anyways, hoping to keep the conversation civil. "Well…I wouldn't say its weapons that make war. Are cars reason for car crashes? No, its people."

"But without them, there'd be a lot less deaths."

"Tell me, would you walk twenty miles to work every day, or would you rather have a vehicle, despite the risks? Would you go onto a battlefield without weapons?"

"But cars are a necessity. You can hardly compare them to…" Mr. Potter interrupted, but Tony's voice overlapped his quickly.

"If a car salesman can do his business without regrets, without so much as a thought about what happens to the person once they drive off the lot, so can my father."

"As long as he can brush his own accountability under the rug, you mean."

Nope. The conversation wouldn't be civil; it had just gone nuclear.

"Once the weapons are purchased, what is done with them is out of our hands."

"Exactly. Once his pockets are full, he's off the hook." His voice was patronizing and his eyes were narrow.

"Dad," Pepper said.

Tony's elbows thudded against the table as he leaned forward. "My dad worked on the Manhattan Project. He had a hand in defeating the Nazis. Are you going to sit here and tell me that his work wasn't for the greater good?"

"Your dad owns the most successful weapons company in the world. There's no arguing with that. But your father has privatized something that shouldn't be privatized. If freedom is really what his business is all about, why are thousands being oppressed by the nature of his work?"

"If you care so much, why aren't you doing anything to stop it?"

Mr. Potts slammed his hands on the table, making the dishes clatter. The other members of the family, including Pepper, stared into their dessert glasses, quiet as mice.

"I'm sending my son off to the army in not even two months. How dare you come into my house and throw around accusations..." His chair scrapped against the hardwood as he stood.

"Look, let me tell you something, Potts. Don't point the finger unless you want it pointed back in your own direction. Take a long look in the mirror. Maybe you'll answer your question as to what the problem with world peace is. People who run their mouths without really knowing what they're saying. Stupid people make the wrong decisions. That's where the problem is." He glanced at Pepper, who looked bewildered. "See you later, Pepper." Tony stood and threw his napkin into his seat before exiting the room.

She twisted in her chair, watching him head for the door. She jumped when it slammed shut behind him.

"He isn't allowed back in this house," Mr. Potts said in a steady voice.

She turned back to face him. "Dad," she said, her voice even. She stood and threw her own napkin in her chair. "You're being ridiculous."

She followed Tony out the door and managed to catch his attention before he sped out of the driveway. He rolled down his window, and the quiet neighborhood was flooded with his blaring rock music above the growl of his engine. "Tony. Come back inside. Lets just…"

He twisted the knob, and the night was quiet again. "No, Pepper. That man is ludicrous. Who does he think he is? He's a hypocrite, Pepper, and a pig-headed jerk who only pretends to know how the world works. How can you even stand to be around him?"

"Whoa, slow down just one second." Her hands went to her hips. "That's my dad."

"So? He was practically gutting my dad like a fish, and I didn't see you stepping in to defend me."

"Really? Is that my responsibility? To stick up for you? Shouldn't you do that on your own? You're a grown up, right? Or are you still dependent on others to change your diaper when it gets a little wet?"

"He doesn't get it, Pepper. What is he expecting? The world to be filled with hearts and flowers? If anyone is the naïve one, it's him."

"I don't have to listen to this." She threw her hands up and turned away.

"You don't have to? What about me? Do you think I want to…"

She swung back around to face him. "You? Why does everything always come back to you?" She was shouting now.

"I thought you knew what you were in for when you signed into this, Pepper."

"See, that's where you're wrong. I didn't sign into anything. I'm not obligated to pick up after you. You've got plenty of other people willing to do that. I deserve better."

"Mmm…" he sneered condescendingly, his eyes narrow. "Yeah. And living in this hell hole, dating who they want you to, always doing what you're told. That's better."

She was silent, staring at the pavement.

He shook his head, irritated. "I'm leaving. I'll see you later. Or maybe not. Who knows."

His tires squealed as he backed out of the driveway, and his music cranked back up as he sped down the street. Pepper watched him from her spot on the driveway. She sighed, her shoulders sagging. He was infuriating. He was in no way what she had envisioned for herself. He wasn't safe, he was dangerous. For all that he had achieved, he really had no concrete goals, choosing instead to stray on the fringes. She did deserve better, she knew. She needed safety and rules and structure in order to keep herself sane. But maybe the exact reasons she couldn't stand him were the reason she needed him so badly.

Giving up, she turned back to the house to go help her mother clear the table.

-O-O-O-

AN: Dudes. I saw MIB3 today. Agent K ate shwarma. It's the official food of heroic crime fighters. That is all.

Press that button!


	10. Cough Syrup

AN: Hesitatnt about posting this chapter. I hope you guys enjoy this one…eh. I'm not completely happy with it. It was really just for filler. But I wanted Pepper to be able to gain some independence. I hope she wasn't being too immature or out of character. She is trying to find her balance right now between being an adult and being a young girl who always followed rules, not to mention her relationship with Tony is plopped on top of it all. The next chapter will be more eventful, I promise. I want to always have quality in my stories, for you guys. You deserve good writing, and I always want to give you that. I hope I do. I owe it to you.

The art exhibit Tony refers to is based on an actual piece I saw at the Tate Museum in London, so no credit goes to me on that one. Let me tell you, that is one cool place. If you're ever in London, go. Seriously. Go. Its intense. But anyways, I digress.

Thank you, my beta, xComet260x :)

I have decided, by royal decree, that my two Reviewers of The Week are BlackLacenecktie, who has been a very faithful reader and reviewer. Thank you so much. Deadpool-rules, you always give such thorough reviews, and I love that. You win an award as well. Next week, I will pick another two of you, so if you want to enter the running, you know what to do. But no worries. Everything's made up and the points don't matter.

-O-O-O-

Cough Syrup – Young the Giant

_-O-O-O-_

_July 1__st__, 1995_

She assumed he left the state after that night at dinner, but she hadn't heard from him since. The last few weeks had gone by in a blur. She felt like she was moving through water. The days were passing, and nothing marked them of any importance. In the weeks since he'd left, she tried to enjoy herself. She'd gone out to parties with her friends, and she'd even met a boy who was kind, smart, and polite. Everything she pictured. She felt happy, she felt better. But it was shallow, and fleeting. Maybe today would be different.

She had plans this evening for a night out with her friends. It was her birthday, after all. They planned to go out, see a local band, and maybe manage to get a few older guys to buy them some drinks.

Since the dinner, things had been strained with her dad. He was out of line, and she wanted to tell him so, but it wasn't her place to reprimand her own father. He knew he was in the wrong, but wouldn't admit it. So the two had silently agreed to disagree, and nothing else was spoken about that night. She'd never really gotten in any spats with her father before. He was never particularly the argumentative type, but he was always stern and clear about what he expected. He had had a bout of alcoholism, when she was little and he was out of work, but she didn't remember much. But of what she did remember, he always put his children above everything else and expected, rather than hoped, that they succeed in everything. They usually got along very well, though honestly she preferred her mother better. She was more understanding, more gentle and lenient.

She had kept all thoughts of Tony out of her mind, and narrowly avoided all conversations where he might come up. Would see him again? She didn't know. She expected so; if he came running with his tail between his legs once, he'd do it again. But she wouldn't hold her breath.

She put the finishing touches on her makeup and stood, looking herself over in the mirror. She was trying to fill herself up, trying to keep herself glued together. Trying to hide the recent cracks. All in all, she knew tonight wouldn't solve anything. It was just a few hours of fun, and the accompanying detachment she felt was always temporary. What she needed was stability. Constancy. She thrived on it. Usually, when she was upset, she'd prefer being alone, working on school work. She could hole herself up for hours in her dorm, reading and working on papers that hadn't even been assigned yet. But there were no such distractions during the summer, so this was her alternative.

She was searching for healing in all the wrong places, and she knew as long as she looked elsewhere, she'd never find it. But maybe she didn't want to find it. Not yet at least.

-O-O-O-

She slid her key quietly into the lock, and removed her heels so she could sneak soundlessly inside. She leaned the door back into place and made for the stairs, just gripping the railing before she noticed her dad on the couch in the living room, his face half lit by the Tiffany lamp on the side table.

He had seen her. There was no escaping now.

"Hey," she said, her voice cutting through the silence of the house like a knife.

"Its 4am."

"I know. You're up really late," she said, trying to sound concerned, folding her hands in front of her.

"Its 4am, Virginia," he repeated.

She scoffed. "I don't have a curfew anymore, dad."

"Maybe not in California, but while you're here you abide by my rules."

She stepped into the living room, still a good distance away from him.

"Dad? Seriously? Its my birthday, I was having fun," she said calmly, trying to get him to see reason.

"With who?"

"With Emily, and Claire. You remember them?"

"Are you drunk?"

"Dad!" Her hands came to hair, and her face reddened. "I'm tired; I just wanna go to bed."

"You aren't answering me, Virginia."

She was horrible liar. And parents had a way of figuring out things even if they had no way of finding out. "I had a few drinks."

"Yes or no, Virginia."

"Yes, ok!" She sighed. "Can I go to bed now?"

"You're nineteen, Virginia."

Her eyes closed and her teeth gritted. She really wished he'd stop saying her name like that. "You don't think I know that?"

"And worse, you drove home drunk."

"Actually, Emily drove me home. I did manage to be responsible. You act like I'm trashed or something. It was only a few drinks."

"What is going on with you? What happened to you? You never used to be like this. Is it that school? Are you sure you can handle college? Its probably that Stark boy…"

Her hands rubbed her temples. "Can we please not talk about Tony?"

"Well, ever since you met him you've thrown yourself out the window."

She laughed incredulously. "Are you kidding me? Because I had a few drinks at a concert, now I might as well have committed a double homicide. Well, excuse me, but there was a time when your record wasn't exactly flawless either."

"Watch what you say, Virginia," he growled, standing.

"Stop saying my name like that. Now I see why Peter moved out. He couldn't take any more of having to come home to the Spanish Inquisition."

"Well, maybe you should do the same, since you feel that way."

"Oh, I will," she spat, and marched out of the room, jogging up the stairs and slamming her bedroom door.

-O-O-O-

_July 7__th__, 1995_

Music screamed through his speakers, on max volume. The windows of his Corvette were down, but otherwise he was shut inside his workshop, as usual these days. Locked inside his concrete cage. No windows. No light from outside. No reason to believe anything else existed. He liked it that way. He remembered an art exhibit he'd seen once in London a few years ago. An artist had modified pictures of various buildings so that they had no doors or windows. Disturbing, maybe, arguably psychotic. But he wanted to be the man inside the building.

He lifted the bottle to his lips, and he could've sworn it was heavier just a few minutes ago. His head leaned back against the head rest and he let out a long sigh, content. Content for the moment at least.

He hadn't even thought of her since he'd been back in Mass. It was easier this time. Easier without her now that he'd had a few days of bliss. Now that they both—somewhat willingly, and silently—agreed that this thing they had would never work. Everything was worth trying at least once, he supposed, and some things weren't for all people.

One more long gulp, and he was numbed again. He felt like going somewhere. Anywhere. This concrete sanctuary was only safe for so long. He thought about calling Dean, but decided against it. Alone was easier. Instead, he turned the engine over and backed out of his garage, and down his drive, leaving tracks behind. A trail, of sorts, maybe, if anyone was left to follow him.

The needle hovered around eighty, but he didn't notice. He reached for the bottle again and let the warm liquid tickle his throat. He shifted gears and let his foot fall even heavier on the accelerator, just wanting to hear the engine growl.

The glitter of light in his rearview took his focus from the road for a moment. Red and blue, spinning and getting nearer. It was beautiful, really, if prosecution was beautiful. Prosecution and liberation at the same time. Yes, that was beautiful, he decided.

He grinned to himself and slowed obediently. The iconic mobster line _'You'll never take me alive, coppers!'_ rang through his head as he pulled over to the shoulder. Gravel skittered beneath his car, and he tensed, hoping he wasn't scratching the paint.

He only needed to wait a moment, and then police officers were pulling him out of the car, pushing him against its ruby red exterior. No, not rubies, he thought. Strawberries. Hands were all over him, gripping his neck, skating along his shirt, while his own hands were being tied down.

Vaguely, he heard a blur of voices in his ear, and turned in the direction of the noise. He saw their faces, angry faces, mouths moving and teeth gnashing. Teeth gnashing. Hell. He'd finally found it. His destination.

He gave no answer to the voices, but gave a smile instead. Apparently that was enough, and he was pulled away from the red and then pushed. He stumbled over himself, but the hands caught him. A light blinded his eyes and he twisted away from it. He said something, but he couldn't hear himself. The voices were yelling again.

Only a few more moments, a few more steps, and a door clicked behind him as he was thrust into another vehicle. He was alone. His hands were still bound behind him, but there was softness beneath him. A cool pane of glass welcomed his forehead and he slept. Finally, his world stopped spinning.


	11. This Is The Thing

AN: Ok, question. Would any of you be completely heartbroken if I didn't include Rhodey in this story? If you'd like to have him as a character, I could work him into the next few chapters. But if not, then I think we can do without him, as long as you guys don't mind. To be honest, I completely forgot about him and replaced him with Dean. But I understand he's an important part of Tony's life, so in the words of the Lady Arwen, "If you want him, come and claim him." Anyone? Anyone catch that reference? No? Ok. Cool. *shame*

-O-O-O-

This is The Thing – Fink

-O-O-O-

_July 8__th__, 1995_

Prison wasn't so bad. He could get used to this. The place smelled like wet dog, and the ham sandwich he'd been given to sober him up was probably a week old, but all in all it wasn't too shabby. His feet were propped on the plastic chair across from him, and the one he sat in was leaned back on two legs, his hands behind his head.

"Hey, Boy Genius. Hey, Richie Rich," the other prisoners heckled him from their own holding cells, leaning lethargically over the bars.

He tipped forward slightly and set his chair back on four legs.

"Sorry boys, I'm taken," he said. "I'm flattered. But I fear our relationship would be short-lived. Besides, you aren't really my type…._Ronald_." He tipped his head sideways to read the name on the one of the men's mechanic overalls.

"Is that Tony Stark?" one of the other prisoners sneered. "I didn't see them rolling out the red carpet for you, pretty boy."

"Invitatoin only," he quipped.

"Where's Daddy to bail you out?" came another voice.

"Anthony Stark?" a cop's voice rang out, and the other guys grew silent. The cop was accompanied by a familiar face, and Tony grinned widely. He held his arms open in welcome.

"Obie! What's shaking, my man?"

But Obadiah didn't look to be in a joking mood. The cop unlocked his cell and swung open the door. Tony strutted up to the man, clapping him on the back. "So happy to see you, Obes. This place was really cramping my style. You know, you guys should really update the décor around here. Its kind of…dull," Tony said to the cop, who looked expressionless. "But I guess that's what you're going for, huh?"

Obadiah steered him toward the exit. "Later, Fife!" He waved at the cop. "See ya boys. Don't drop the soap!" He threw them a wink before taking Obadiah's sunglasses out of his hand and sliding them on his own face, swaggering ahead of him towards security.

"Thanks, Obie. You're a lifesaver. But much less circular and delicious. Did you bring the Escalade? That would be the perfect car to drive out of this place. I feel like Mick Jagger, seriously."

"Tony, cut it out," Obadiah said, apathetic.

"Aw, what's wrong, Sourpatch? Ha! That's two candy jokes in a row! I'm on a roll today. Hey is the press here, cuz that'd be cool…"

The prison doors were opened, and a swarm of reporters crowded the parking lot.

"Hey! They are here! It's a party! Smile Obie!"

A sleek Aston Martin pulled up to meet them, while a swarm of photographers and journalists tried to snap pictures and grab statements.

"Ok, the Martin. Not a bad choice. I only wanted to feel like a rock star when I leave," Tony said, sliding inside the back seat, scooting to the other end to accommodate Obie.

The door was forced closed against the sea of people trying to push their way inside the car. The engine revved and the driver pulled out.

"So how long til you think I'll be in the tabloids? This makes a good debut don't you think?" He propped his elbow against the window sill and rested his chin on his fist, turning to Obie.

"I give it ten hours," Obadiah said dryly.

"That long? You think? Hmmm…I was thinking maybe five, give or take for the…"

Obadiah reached over and snatched the sunglasses off Tony's face.

"Whoa, Obes. Watch the money-maker!"

"You think this is funny, Tony?"

"Why? Having fun?"

"I had to drive five hours to…"

"Well, technically, you weren't driving," Tony's voice overlapped his.

"To come and bail you out of jail. What were you thinking, Tony? Were you out of your mind?"

"No, but I was under the influence."

"You were charged with a DUI, underage possession of alcohol, and public intoxication."

"Ludicrous. The road was completely empty. No way I could've been drunk in public."

"Do you realize what this means for your father, for you? For the company?"

"You're losing objectivity, Obes. The company is safe."

"Your father is in Japan right now, making the biggest deal of the year. And I call him and tell him his son is in jail? Do you understand how furious he is right now?"

"Don't play the father card, Obie. You know it never works. Hey, do you think we could stop at Burger King?" Tony asked the driver, leaning forward in his seat.

Obadiah yanked him backwards. "Before tomorrow, your name will be printed in every tabloid out there. You really want to start your career off like that, Tony? This is your reputation we're talking about."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Reputation. Public identity. Never let 'em see you sweat. I've heard it all before, Obes."

"Look, kid. In a ten or fifteen years, you might be inheriting this company. If you behave like this, everything your father's worked so hard for is down the drain. Your nice cars, your fancy houses, kiss it all goodbye, slim. I don't want to see this empire squashed like a bug. Your father and I have worked too hard and too long to establish it for you to treat it like a plaything. This is business, Tony." He said that much too often.

Tony mouthed the familiar phrase, rolling his eyes. "I get it."

"Don't let it happen again."

Tony nodded. "Sure, Obes. We cool?"

Odabiah sighed, but his hand came to clap Tony on the back. "Yeah. Sure. We're cool"

-O-O-O-

_July 9__th__, 1995_

The airport buzzed with passengers, some dressed in army green, some looking perfectly normal. Some even had children, headed for vacation. Ironic, Pepper thought, as she stood beside her parents, saying their goodbyes to Peter.

His thick red curls had been shaved off, and he now stood before them looking more like a man than he ever had. Funny how he blended so well with the other men, like he was just another number.

Mrs. Potts hugged him tightly and smoothed his uniform. "We'll miss you, son."

"Its only ten weeks, Mom. Then I'll be home for a few weeks again."

The woman sniffled, unable to hide her tears. Pepper worked hard to keep her own from stinging her eyes, but she was failing.

Peter stepped forward to hug his sister. "Hey. Don't cry, Frog Face."

She laughed softly and put her arms around him. Suddenly, hot tears were streaming down her face, into the thick, heavy material of his uniform. "Peter…" she breathed.

"Its ok, Gin. I'm coming back." And he sounded so sure about it that she didn't argue. She pulled away and wiped at her eyes.

"Do something for me?" he asked, holding her hands in his.

She nodded.

"Take care of Tony?"

Her throat tightened. How could she possible promise that? What they had…whatever it was…was over. But she nodded anyways, if only to please her brother.

"Final boarding call for Flight 124 to Colorado," a female voice said over the intercom.

She hugged him tight again. Her parents said their final goodbyes, and Mr. Potts shook his hand. He threw them a wave as he passed through the gate, and was gone.

The ride home was silent. No one spoke. The radio wasn't even playing. Pepper really didn't want to go home. She'd moved in with Peter and their apartment would be so hauntingly vacant, she didn't even want to set foot inside. It felt like he was gone and never coming back.

But she took assurance in what he'd said. He was coming back, and only in ten weeks. Then he began his tour, and the real terror started; there was no use worrying this much over basic training.

"You guys….wanna get dinner?" she asked from the back seat, her own voice surprising to her ears.

Her father looked startled at her voice. "Sure, pumpkin." His smile was reflected in the rearview mirror.

His hand came to rest over his wife's on the console between them, and they gave one another a smile. And the weight was lifted. The fear that he now hated her. The fear that things would never be the same. Things hadn't changed at all. She didn't have to hide her mistakes from them. She knew, in that instant, that things would be ok. Even if both Tony and Peter were gone. Not everything stayed lost forever.

And the world would keep spinning.

-O-O-O-

AN: Not happy with this one either, guys. But it had to happen. Once we make it to December, things will go down, so stay with me people.


	12. Restless

Restless – Switchfoot

-O-O-O-

_July 10__th__, 1995_

She had told them everything. When they went to dinner after Peter's departure, she'd decided to let everything go. She'd told them about Thomas, about her drinking habits that had started this past semester. She had expected them to be furious, and she braced herself for an all-out shouting match, but both of them were accepting and calm throughout her explanation. They said afterwards that they were thankful she had decided talk to them. Like always, Pepper was reminded that truth was the only road to patching up holes.

They understood that she was a grown up now, and they couldn't govern her life forever. She lived all the way across the country now, and she needed to be responsible for herself. They agreed to be less intrusive, and she was extremely pleased that things were turning around.

Now, she stood in line at the grocery store, waiting for her mother to return with the eggs she'd forgotten to pick up. To occupy herself, she browed the array of impulse items that were stacked near the check-out line.

She browsed the magazines, reaching for Vogue, but another magazine caught her eye. It was some gossip magazine that she'd never found much interest in. They were all full of lies anyways. Bill Clinton's picture was plastered on the cover, but near the edge, a very familiar face grinned up at her. Tony.

He looked unshaven and like he'd been run over by a truck, but sunglasses hid his—probably bloodshot—eyes and his hands were thrown up in an amiable fashion. He was grinning from ear to ear. The caption beneath the picture read_: Tony Stark's Wild Night Lands Him In Jail. Details Pg. 12._

What had he gotten himself into?

-O-O-O-

Tony was bent over a bowl of Lucky Charms at the counter of his parent's huge kitchen. The plan had been go to home to his apartment after Obie bailed him out, but instead he was dragged back to Long Island like a little boy, waiting for his father to come home and give him a talking-to. He didn't even expect his father to realize he was here, though Obie seemed to think he would get some sort of punishment. Punishment, what a joke. He hadn't been grounded a day in his life, and he doubted it would start at age eighteen.

As Tony slurped the milk from the bottom of his bowl, Obie entered the kitchen, several magazines in hand. He slid the books onto the counter and moved to the coffee pot, pouring himself a cup. "Congratulations, slim," he said sneeringly. "You just got yourself on the front cover of _People_."

"Cool," Tony said, smirking. He picked up a magazine from the stack. A few other tabloids lay beneath the copy of _People_, all with headlines bearing his name.

He flipped to page twelve and found the blurb that read:

_Tony Stark, 18, son of billionaire weapons developer Howard Stark, was caught by Massachusetts police driving under the influence of alcohol on the evening of July 7__th__. The boy genius spent only fourteen hours in jail before being bailed out at the amount of $5,000. But we can't help but notice that it wasn't Papa Stark who came to the rescue, but rather faithful business partner Obadiah Stane. With the senior Stark in Japan, is there anyone keeping young Tony in line? The only Stark child begins his last year at MIT in the fall, and the sky's the limit for this young prodigy who will graduate with two Masters Degrees. Tony Stark is already establishing his reputation as a partying playboy. Though some might say that his love of booze and women could prove disastrous for the company, we think its part of his irresistible charm, and it is certain that we can expect many more wild nights from one Tony Stark. For now, Tony's antics have us eagerly in wait of his next move. Oh, and did we mention, ladies? He's single!_

"Irresistible. Yeah, I could agree with that. But it isn't even a whole page. And this schmuck on the cover, that should be me." Tony smirked and closed the magazine.

Obadiah didn't look amused.

Tony shrugged. "If you ask me, now that I've screwed myself, I should just continue to screw myself. And no, that wasn't a sexual innuendo. Ok, maybe it was."

In the foyer, the heavy wooden front door was opened, and Howard's voice boomed through the otherwise quiet house. "Jarvis, get me a scotch, and make it fast. Get the luggage out of the car and take it to the bedroom, then drive the car off to the garage would you?"

The legs of Tony's stool scraped the hardwood as he stood. He rounded the island to drop his bowl in the sink. He threw Obadiah a smirk. "Daddy's home."

By the time Tony made it to the foyer, at the foot of the wide marble stairs, his father was at the top. He followed behind him, and reached the top just as his father set his briefcase down to open his office door.

"Hey Dad," he said in greeting, but his father didn't hear him, or chose to ignore him as he entered his office and shut the door behind himself.

Tony ignored the dull sting in his chest. It didn't hurt any less than it did when he was a child, but it became easier to ignore. It was standard protocol by now.

-O-O-O-

"You never told us about the robotics competition last semester," his mother said during dinner, trying to keep conversation rolling. Otherwise, they would sit in awkward silence.

"Oh…it went well. We came in second, but that…"

His father's throat clearing interrupted him. He stood, picking up his plate. "I think I'm going to take this to the workshop, darling. I've got a lot of work to do." He made his way around the table but Maria laid a gentle hand on his arm. "But, Tony's just telling us about his work at school."

Funny how she always had to remind him what they were talking about.

Howard glanced briefly at his son, looking bewildered, like he hadn't noticed his presence in the room before now. He turned back to his wife. "Oh, he can tell me later. I'll be there all night."

He didn't even address Tony directly. Always making him feel like he was invisible, that was his specialty. Tony looked down at his plate, shoving his food around.

Howard left the room and the door thudded back into place.

Maria coughed delicately, but said nothing.

Tony sat frozen for a few more minutes before he stood. "Sorry, Mom. I'm…not hungry anymore." He tossed his linen napkin in his seat and left the room, pulling the door shut a little too roughly, and the sound echoed against the pristine marble tiles. He tasted bile rising in his throat, felt rage grow deep in his chest. His fists clenched and unclenched at his side. This was why he hated coming home. It was always the same. He was an object, inanimate.

He wanted to hit something, break something. But the Starks weren't one of _those _families. They swept their problems under the rug. Slap on a smile, and get a grip. Like any family who had money, they knew how to save face. They knew how to hide their dysfunction. They'd been doing it for more than fifty years now. And they always made sure to cover all their tracks. There was a company and a fortune at stake.

It was all a show. That's what they put on. An act. And if a show was what the press wanted, he'd give a show.

-O-O-O-

A five hour train ride put him in Cambridge by half past midnight. A quick shower, and he'd made it to the pub by one. By two o'clock, he was leaned lazily against the bar, his hand sliding along some girl's thigh. He thought he recognized her from one of his classes, but there was no way; it was probably just his drunken haze. By two-thirty they were in her hotel room, tumbling and tripping over one another in their haste.

As he leaned her back on the mattress, he noticed her eyes were crystal blue.

-O-O-O-

_July 11__th__, 1995_

He fled the scene, like any good criminal, leaving no evidence that he'd been there besides the imprint of his face in the pillow next to her. If she even remembered who he was, at least she'd a have a good story for her friends.

Now he sat in a booth at Burger King, alone, eating off his hangover. Was there anything wrong in what he had done? No. Not to him. Women should know that when they were with him: it would only end badly. He wouldn't call back; he never did. He wouldn't take them on dates and treat them like princesses like they expected. He was a jerk, and not afraid to own up to it.

It was all the same to him. Girls were fun, for a night. But having them around on a long term basis was disastrous. It was easier to have no strings attached. He'd tried to the relationship thing, and it didn't work. Obviously it wasn't meant for everyone. Then why couldn't he get her out of his mind? Why did he see her everywhere, in every woman he laid eyes on?

As soon as he was back at his apartment, he arranged to meet Dean at the same pub as last night. The one thing he was certain of was that Scotch had never failed him.

-O-O-O-

They sat in their usual booth, both with a tall glass of ale in hand. It was a nice start, but the heavy stuff would come soon enough once they got warmed up. Two Boston U girls had asked him to dance and he had brazenly invited them to sit with them in the booth, but now they mixed among the crowd on the dance floor, putting on quite a show which he watched with intense focus.

"Have you heard from Virginia?" Dean spoke.

He tore his gaze away from the girls and looked at his friend. "Who? Oh…no…" He swirled the liquid in his glass, his mood now dulled at the mention of her.

"You love her."

"What?"

"You love her," he repeated.

Tony scoffed. "Love is for children."

"Well, you sure act like one," he said, and Tony looked up at him, now listening.

"Look, I'm just trying to have fun tonight. I mean, look at this." He gestured to the girls, grinning, trying to ignore what Dean was saying. "Its beautiful."

"You love her. You just don't want to admit it. You got scared. You met her parents, things didn't go well, you got in a fight and you bolted. You were scared because it wasn't perfect like you expected. Well, love isn't perfect my friend. And sometimes it's the hardest thing we can do."

"Well, the phone works both ways…"

"Stop trying to justify it, man," he said, and stood to order another beer.

Tony stared after his friend. He didn't love Pepper. Dean had no clue what he was saying. Tony didn't really know what love even was. It was foreign. But he did know that love could be ignored, and_ love_ was not the same as_ like_. His parents' distant marriage was the perfect illustration to that.

He _liked_ Pepper. She was cute, smart, funny. But in no way did he love her.

He knew why he left. The fight, no matter how small, had scared the hell out of him. He would rather disappear without explanation than have to waste the energy to patch things up. If things were ignored, they were easier. They would eventually be forgotten, or numbed at least. He'd learned that over the years. Dean had mentioned that love was hard. But it was too hard. He'd much rather have no strings attached. He didn't want risk it. He didn't want to risk the fall. At this point, it could still be ignored.

It was best if he never saw her again. Soon, they would both be able to forget and move on. Yes, that was best. That way she could settle down with the nice, polite family man she wanted, and he could continue bedding whoever he liked. Grab and angle and stick to it, like Obie always said. Things were less messy that way.

The girls were strutting back to the table now. Short skirts, glittery dresses, long legs and all. One swept her way around the rounded booth to sit on his right, while the other perched at his left.

"Well, hello ladies." He stretched his arms around them both. Yes, this was easier, and quite comfortable, he mused, as his fingers slid up the smooth silk blouse of the girl on his right.

-O-O-O-

Pepper sat crossed legged on her bed, phone in hand. He lips pursed and unpursed as she shifted the device from hand to hand. She just couldn't work up the nerve to do it.

The apartment was hauntingly quiet without Peter. She spent as much time as possible in her room, not wanting to face the emptiness of the space. But harder to ignore was the vacancy inside. Her brother—her best friend—had left, and even though she had patched things up with her parents, she still had Tony to deal with. She didn't plan on abandoning him just yet. She had promised Peter, after all.

She knew he was scared to commit, not that she was expecting anything. She was a realist, and wouldn't expect anything more than what she saw as fact. There were no visions of grandeur here. She wasn't the type to hold onto things that would never become reality.

Tony wasn't ready for love, but he did need her. She felt responsible for him, somehow. She was the only one who could tame him, and because of that she had a duty to him. She didn't want to call to ask anything more than how he was doing. Check if he was still alive.

Finally, he fingers dialed the number and she put the earpiece to her ear. The monotonous ringing was interrupted by his answering machine. He hadn't even bothered to set up a personal message. It was still the artificial female voice that came standard on the machine. The beep came before she could hang up, and she breathed into the receiver for a few seconds. What was she supposed to say? She had forgotten everything she had planned.

Her throat cleared and she drew in a breath. "Um…" she finally spoke. "Its Pepper. Call me back. Ok…" she sighed into the machine. Her chest constricted with words she wanted to say. "Ok. Bye."

She hit the end button and lay back on her mattress. What an idiot. Who was she kidding? He had probably moved on by now, and was dallying up some voluptuous blonde. She was kidding herself if she thought he was calling her back.

-O-O-O-

He had one of the girls from the bar pinned against the wall of his foyer, and she was currently tearing quite frantically at his clothes. The phone's ring made him jump, but she pulled him against her. "Don't answer it," she breathed against his motuh.

"Wasn't planning on it," he answered. Her slender legs hitched around his waist and he carried her to the bedroom, slamming the door behind him with his foot.

Pepper's voice filled the abandoned kitchen. "Um…Its Pepper. Call me back….ok….ok bye."

-O-O-O-

AN: Hint for the next chapter: its about to get real, so brace yourselves.


	13. Red Violin

The Red Violin – The Red Violin Soundtrack

-O-O-O-

_December 15__th__, 1995_

Four months had passed without any events of major importance. He had saved the message Pepper had left until he was too drunk one evening to remember to update the settings, and it was automatically deleted by the machine. He had never called back. Honestly, he didn't have the guts to hear her voice. He knew he'd just go crawling back to her, and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He chalked their relationship up as a summer romance and nothing more. He doubted he'd hear another word from Pepper Potts ever again, and that suited him fine.

The semester had been filled with the usual stuff: classes, papers, lab hours, and alcohol. Not necessarily in that order.

As a grad student, he was responsible for teaching a physics lab, and though he'd begged for a higher level class, he'd gotten stuck with the basic applied physics class. But in the end, everything worked out for his benefit. The labs were practically gift wrapped for him, so there was no planning on his part. All he had to do was explain the concepts—easy—and grade papers. To his delight, there had even been several girls at the end of the year in need of a GPA boost and not opposed to exploiting themselves to get it.

This evening, he prepped himself for a night of schmoozing with stuck-up rich people forcing laughs over their brandy glasses. The annual Stark Industries Christmas party. What a trip. He would've opted for a night alone in his room if his mother had allowed it. This was a mandatory event, and he'd been in attendance since he was five years old. There was no getting out of it. Hopefully he'd be able to nick a few drinks from the open bar to help the night pass more quickly.

He had just finished sliding into his tux jacket when his mother entered his bedroom.

She was gorgeous, in a mint colored evening gown that was modest for her age, but still reminiscent of the classic Hollywood actress look that she was still able to pull off flawlessly. He had always thought his mother to be a beautiful woman. When she was in her twenties, she had been quite the charmer according to what he'd been told. At the age of forty-nine, she still hadn't lost her touch.

Her jet black tresses—which she kept dyed nowadays—were perfectly coiffed and pinned away from her smiling face. "You look very handsome," she said, leaning the door shut behind her.

"Thanks, Mom. You look beautiful." He took her porcelain-white hand, still unchanged by age, and kissed her knuckles lightly.

"Oh, Tony. Stop flirting, you shameless devil." She laughed her tinkling laugh that sounded just the same as it had when she was young. "Get that bow tie and let me fix it."

He chuckled in harmony with her and turned to snatch the scrap of cloth off his bed. Her skilled fingers worked the bow tie easily into place. This was tradition. She did this for him before every single event they attended, ever since he was old enough to join.

She smoothed his jacket down and straightened his vest. "There. Perfect." Those were always the words to signal that she had finished her inspection and approved.

She leaned up to kiss his cheek and laughed lightly against his skin. "Oh, my Tony. You're getting too tall for me."

He grinned and offered his arm, always a gentleman to his mother if not to any other woman. As they moved into the hall to descend the wide staircase, she nudged his ribs. "I wonder if you'll meet a pretty lady this evening. The Rochesters have quite a nice daughter, Emily. I believe you've met her?"

He nodded. "Yes, I remember." Emily Rochester was an empty-headed twit.

"I do worry about you, Tony. I want you to have a nice girl, and be happy."

"I will, Mom," he said reassuringly, if only to the 'happy' part of her statement. "I'm only eighteen."

"Nineteen, almost." She said when they reached the bottom.

His birthday was in a little over a week, on the twenty-eighth. It was always a point of debate when he was little if he should get both birthday presents and Christmas presents, or if the two should be combined. His father had wanted to keep him from being spoilt, and had always insisted on Christmas presents only—not that there was any lack of presents for Tony either way.

"I've got time, Mom," he said, and kissed her cheek.

The wide foyer was decked to the nines in Christmas garb, thanks to Jarvis. A towering Christmas tree glittered near the window, elegant but still bursting with ornaments and lights. Few presents were gathered beneath it, but Tony figured most of them hadn't made it back from Europe yet. Both stair railings were wound in evergreen garlands and wine-colored satin bows.

Christmas was always a big to-do at the Stark mansion, at least to Maria. She always cooked—without Jarvis's assistance—their Christmas brunch, which was to be eaten before presents were opened. There was enough food to keep them revolving through the kitchen all day, well past what would be considered a decent dinner time.

In the past, his father chose to put business aside for both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day and concentrated only on his wife and son—though the two days didn't make up for the other three-hundred and sixty-three. It was a nice effort.

When Tony was younger, his father would take him outside to experiment with whatever new toy car or airplane he'd gotten. Until Tony grew too old for toys.

The sound of his father's wing-tip shoes against the stairs brought him back to reality. Howard joined his wife and son in the foyer, car keys in hand and overcoat draped across one arm.

"Jarvis isn't driving tonight. I gave him the night off," he said, reaching for the door, holding it open for his wife. "Hurry. We're running late."

A glance at his own watch told Tony they were only a few minutes behind schedule and still had plenty of time to arrive on time.

"Oh, that was nice of you. He deserves it," Maria said, kissing her husband's cheek as she passed through the doorway, shrugging into her mink coat.

Tony followed behind them, already crestfallen that he would have to be the one to drive them home from the concert hall if Howard planned on drinking without bringing Jarvis along. No sneaking drinks tonight.

They drove the Rolls Royce, Tony in the back seat behind Maria. Maria tuned the radio to a station playing Christmas songs, and hummed along softly from her seat.

They slowed to a stop at more than a few red-lights and Howard was beginning to get a little unnerved. "Dammit, these lights," he said, checking his watch.

"Relax, darling. We've got plenty of time," Maria mused, always the optimist.

Howard let out an exasperated sigh and posed to press the gas once more when the light changed.

As soon as the light flicked to green, he pressed down the pedal, maybe a little too eagerly. No one saw, nor were they prepared for the impact. A black sedan, perpendicular to them, rammed into Howard's side of the vehicle and immediately the car was sent spinning.

Tony thought his vision must be blacking out and returning, blacking out and returning; like someone stopping a video tape and then pressing play in a repeated cycle. One minute, he saw his father's hands release the steering wheel, thrown into the air while his body pitched sideways. Shards of glass hung weightlessly in the air around him, reflecting and glinting like icicle lights. The nose end of the Royce crumpled like it had been made of crepe paper. Another jolt and they were crushed between the impacting car and the highway barrier. The next minute, everything was black and the car was finally still.

When his vision returned, he could just barely see the edge of his mother's evening gown peeking around her seat. Her pale hand rested at a strange angle against the fabric. A thin trickle of crimson leaked its way past the diamond bracelet on her wrist. Blackness again, for only a few seconds, and he noticed his father's body jammed against the wheel, held there by the mass of twisted metal. His face was partially turned in Tony's direction. Blood dripped in gruesome rivulets from his temple, down his neck, pooling on the collar of his crisp white shirt.

Tony felt sick.

His insides twisted violently, like he was being turned inside out. The contents of his stomach spewed onto the floorboards. He was retching now, trying to catch his breath so he could scream. Move. Do something. His body slumped back against the seat, arms limp.

Slowly, his eyes wandered to assess his own injuries. It was difficult to detect any traces of blood against the material of his black jacket, but his hands were covered in red. Little streams of crimson that pooled in his palms as he held them upright. Every joint protested when he rotated his arms to inspect the source of the blood. The backs of his hands were sliced in multiple places. His knuckles glinted with wedges of glass.

Stupidly, he flexed his fingers and yelped in pain when the pieces dug deeper in his bone. In surrender, he leaned his head back against the headrest.

He wasn't sure how long he laid there—it could've been days, it could've been only seconds.

Then his head snapped forward, and he was filled with a sudden rush of energy.

His hands throbbed as he reached frantically to pull at his seat belt, his fingers stumbling to find the button. But there was no use. His side of the car was pinned against the highway barrier, and the opposite door was jammed by the car that had hit them. He wasn't going anywhere.

He panicked briefly, his adrenaline rushing and pulsing in his ears. He glanced from window to window, searching for an escape. Fleetingly, he thought of asking for their help, but the thought made his stomach churn again. He was stuck here to watch his parents' corpses bleed out. This was a sickening form of penance.

Another car, approaching from behind, attempted to skid to a stop. A sheet of black ice sent them sliding into the back end of the Royce, though not as forceful as the first. Tony was jarred forward in his seat and then backwards again. The seat belt sliced through the skin at his neck, though he'd barely felt it.

He never recalled actually wanting to die more than he did now. He silently asked for it. Begged for it. Yearned for it. It wasn't coming quick enough.

Eventually, too exhausted to sit upright, his damaged fingers somehow unclicked the seat belt and he lay against the soft leather seat. Bits of glass speared themselves into his scalp and his face, but he didn't feel it. His whole body was numb.

He had never expected the last moments to feel like this. He was warm and finally at rest. He had never felt such peace from any illicit substance he'd ever ingested. It was pleasant, spreading to every synapse. Like Novocain. He hoped this was what they had felt too. Or had it been too quick for them to even register what was happening? If he was destined to die here, he was at least thankful that it was a comfortable death.

As much as he tried to keep his eyes open, they were eventually heavy as lead and he could no longer force them open. Finally, he was in the dark and he was alone. Vaguely, he heard sirens somewhere. But the noise was clouded and muffled, like they were traveling underwater. He was sure it was only the vain hope somewhere within him that still held onto salvation. Eventually, everything went silent and his consciousness faded.


	14. Timing Is Everything

AN: This chapter was very difficult for me, so I hope I managed to get Tony's emotions across accurately. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU everyone that reviewed! You are so amazing, I can hardly stand it! I love every single one of you!

-O-O-O-

Timing Is Everything – Garrett Hedlund (Specifically the Garrett Hedlund version, not the Trace Adkins version. A little cheesy, but it's sweet and if you really listen, I think it's fitting for the Starks' death as well as Pepper's return. Also, because I watched Country Strong this weekend and Gwyneth Paltrow broke my lil ol' heart, but I digress).

-O-O-O-

_December 16__th__, 1995_

His ears were ringing. A high pitched, nauseating ring that made his head swim.

The sound grew in pitch to the point where it was almost supersonic. Just when he was sure his skull was going to explode, the sound thinned to a steady pattern of beeps. Another pattern overlapped and the two sounds fell into a steady rhythm. _Beep-bleep-beep-bleep-beep-bleep._

A blur of voices rumbled low beneath the beeping. He couldn't understand the words, but he could pick out Obadiah's familiar vibrato without even having to.

The world was white when he finally managed to open his eyes, but even that blinding filter dispersed to a watery haze. He couldn't see shapes, couldn't see people, or see where he was. But all the same, he knew. He knew he was in a hospital. Where else?

He didn't dare move, or give any signal that he was awake. He didn't want to have anyone poking and prodign at him like he was a frog ready for dissection.

Through half-closed eyes he found Obadiah's stocky outline a few feet away. He couldn't make out any of his features, only his usual dark clothing and hulking stance. Beside him, Tony expected a doctor, but whoever Obadiah was talking to turned their head and he saw a flash of red. Not red like cherries. Not red like the sleek exterior of his Corvette. An entirely different sort of red. With hints of amber, or maybe gold. Either way, the red was intoxicating, transfixing. Violent against the dull colors of the room.

Now he could make out the body, slim and exceptionally small next to the adjacent husky black figure. His original feelings of ache and numbness melted away as his eyes followed the red. It was gorgeous, drawing him in like a magnet. Like an electric current he couldn't break. For a moment, he felt like he could move a mountain until it all washed over him again. An undercurrent sucking him back in. His entire body burned. His bones were made of titanium. Blackness enveloped him again, but still he saw the red. It had been burned into his retina; a part of him. It floated around in the endless dimension of darkness. A swirling, swimming light that wouldn't be extinguished.

-O-O-O-

The next time he woke, things were clearer and brighter. It didn't take long for the fog to lift and the glaring white room to come into focus. He flinched away from the light and tried to lift a hand, but a painful tug in his wrist held him back. When he glanced down, he found that there were several fluid lines inserted at his wrist, pumping some unknown substances into him. Yes, he confirmed it, this was a hospital.

Various machines beeped and hummed behind him, none of which he could shift quite far enough to see. The blinds on the window to the right of his bed were partially open, letting in the unfiltered day light. Whose bright idea had that been? Were they trying to blind him?

A thin blanket hung over his legs, and he assumed his tux had been disposed of, and now replaced with a gown of papery fabric.

He shifted and the fabric scratched against his chest like sandpaper. To his left, two chairs flanked a small table, one of which was occupied. His heart twisted in his chest when he realized who it was.

Her elbow was leaned on the arm rest, and her cheek rested in her hand. She was obviously uncomfortable, her body folded into the confines of the chair as she slept. She had no blanket, but a thick knit cardigan huddled around her. For a moment, he just watched her. The streams of light from the window near her illuminated her hair, and he noticed it was the only warm color in the room. Everything else was dull greys and muted blues—or white; he was beginning to hate white.

While he stared, he noticed she'd changed her hairstyle. It rested just a few inches beneath her shoulders now, and her bangs were fuller. For a moment, he wasn't sure if he liked it. It was almost too short for his taste, but he decided it suited her. It made her look older.

Either out of discomfort, or because she felt his presence, she shifted. Her face lifted from where it had rested in her palm. She stretched long and slow, like a cat. He reveled in the arch of her back and the pointe of her toes. Finally, she opened her eyes and turned immediately to the window, as if it had offended her. She reached over from her spot and twisted the rod that closed the blinds, shutting out the blinding rays.

He froze, unsure of what to do. Make himself known or feign sleep. He waited for her to turn in his direction, but instead she bent to dig in the purse at her feet. Too anxious to wait any longer, he grunted softly.

Her head snapped up, and she smiled. "Hi," she said in a whisper, as if talking louder would cause him to shatter.

"Hi," he rasped. His throat was chafed and blistered, and he involuntarily coughed, trying to shake the feeling.

Instantly, she stood and moved to the tray table at the foot of his bed to retrieve a Styrofoam cup. She perched herself on the edge of the mattress, and it compressed under her weight. She helped him to drink.

He wouldn't have even been aware he was drinking had he not known she was pouring water down his throat. The liquid slowly eroded the gravel in his throat, but it still felt raw and charred.

She held the cup awkwardly between her hands, drumming her fingertips against its sides.

Neither of them spoke for several minutes. The tension in the air was thick as tar. He wasn't really sure where to begin, or what to ask. There were too many questions that needed to be answered before they could even begin to work on themselves. But he wasn't ready yet to hear about the accident, or what had been done with his parents. Just the thought made him shift uncomfortably, and he turned away from her, clearing his mind before he spoke.

"Who called you?"

She looked at him, a little startled at his voice. Her gaze fell back to the cup in her hands. "I saw…" she swallowed deeply, obviously choosing her words carefully, "…the news at the airport while I was waiting for my flight home…Luckily they let me switch my flight to the red eye headed to Boston. I got here two hours ago, but you've been sleeping since you got here, so…"

"Who else is here?"

"Just Obadiah…and Jarvis was here earlier."

It shocked him a little, how familiar their names sounded on her tongue. She'd only just met them, and already she spoke so casually of them. It didn't bother him. It was oddly comforting.

"How do you feel?" she asked quietly.

His eyes closed and his head rolled from side to side. "How do you think I feel?" he replied, coldly.

"Right…" Her voice was barely audible.

He hadn't meant to be so harsh, but it was a stupid question. His entire body ached. He felt like he'd been pressed flat by a steam roller. He knew she didn't mean it the way she'd said it. She was trying to fill the silence. Silence made things worse.

Her fingers drummed against the white plastic cup again as she tried to think of what to say next.

Another silence, stretching between them like taffy. Its fibers strained and came close to breaking, but the door opened and it was sent snapping back together.

Obadiah's head peeked into the room. Tony hadn't ever seen him so dejected. It was as if he carried a lion on his shoulders, sinking under its weight. His white dressed shirt and black pants were wrinkled and Tony realized they were pieces to the tux he'd been wearing to the party. His throat cleared softly, uncomfortably. "Pepper, you want to grab a bite to eat?" he asked casually. Tony was again taken aback at how easily they interacted with only a few hours of knowing one another. It wasn't strange. But it was familiar, like they were family. Whatever family was. He shrugged the thought off.

She stood, placing the cup back on its tray. "Sure."

The mattress filled itself with air again, filling the void left by her absence.

"You want anything, Tony?" Obadiah asked while Pepper gathered her purse.

He didn't answer, but turned his face away, back towards the window on his right. The blinds were still open, letting in much too much sunlight.

The pair left without another word.

Tony glared at the blinds, squinting up at the offending rays. What was he supposed to do now? How did people move on after things like this? He just wanted to get out of this forsaken place, but the thought of home was jarring. He wanted to avoid it. Avoid everything. Avoid the house, avoid Obadiah; anything that had to do with them. It was too fresh.

Tony Stark had become quite good at circumvention, and this would be no different.

-O-O-O-

Only half an hour after Obadiah and Pepper left for lunch—at least he assumed, he had no idea what time it was—a doctor let himself into the room, introducing himself as Dr. Brooks, accompanied by a young, rather naive looking nurse named Jessie.

Jessie went to work at changing his bandages while the doctor ran down the laundry list of things wrong with him. "We can release you tomorrow morning if everything goes well this evening."

"What do you mean _everything_?" he asked incredulously while watching Jessie tape up his fingers. The doctor ignored him and continued.

"You've got major lacerations on your fingers and hands, so I suggest doing no lifting or any strenuous work with your hands for a while. You've got stitches in your neck and at your hairline. And of course there are other minor cuts and bruises which we've tended to. And you might want to watch your right side carefully. You cracked several ribs on that side when your body slammed into the car door, so treat it carefully. I'm prescribing you 500mg of Vicodin to help with the pain. If you have any migraines or headaches, your standard OTC ibeprofen should do the job." He ticked off his injuries like a grocery list, and Tony wasn't blind to Dr. Brooks' obvious lack of bedside manner.

Finally, he finished and tapped his pen incessantly against the clip board he held. "I need to brief you about what happened to your parents," he said after a beat.

On that note, Jessie exited the room, leaving them alone together for this private discussion.

Tony's eyes narrowed. "Ok," he said dryly. All oxygen in the room had thinned and he found it hard to catch a breath.

"They were both killed on impact. Your father first, when the initial vehicle hit, and your mother when the car hit the highway barrier. I will tell you that it was quick, most likely. But you are quite lucky to be alive, with only a few cuts and bruises."

By now, Tony had turned away, glaring at the blinds again. They were still open. As the doctor spoke, he felt something snap. Something shatter inside, but he couldn't quite pinpoint where. His vision went red.

Before he could think, his head turned back to face the doctor. His jaw set, the saliva in his mouth thickening. "You bastard," he said slowly, densely.

Dr. Brooks looked confused for a beat. Instinctively, he retreated a few steps.

Tony pushed himself upright. "Lucky? You think I'm _lucky_? You miserable fuck."

He grabbed at the doctor's clipboard and flung it at the wall, where it shattered into two pieces and a flurry of papers.

The doctor flinched and opened his mouth to respond, but whatever he had intended was forgotten when Tony sent his tray table skidding across the room, where intertia took over and it landed on its side with a clang. Whatever items had been on it rolled and scattered across the room.

"You miserable _fuck_! Lucky?" he raged, practically screaming now. "I'm supposed to feel _lucky _that they died and I didn't? You fucking bastard."

The door swung open and Pepper and Obadiah rushed in, apparently having heard the commotion. But Tony wasn't going to be stopped.

"You should feel _lucky_ that I don't get you fired! I demand another doctor, and I want a release form right now. I'm not spending another minute in the shit-hole. Get the fuck out! _Get. The_ _fuck. Out._"

He had only meant for the doctor to leave, but Obadiah and Pepper followed as well. Pepper's face was entirely blank except for a glitter of moisture in her eyes. She worried her fingernails in front of her as she filed out.

"No!" he shouted at her, unable to stop himself. "You stay!" He pointed a shaking finger in her direction.

Almost militarily, she did an about face and perched in her chair from earlier that morning. She didn't look at him, but stared at her hands in her lap. He'd obviously scared the hell out of her. Either that, or she was scared to respond, afraid to set him off again.

Several minutes ticked by in silence, and eventually he eased himself back on the mattress and his adrenaline slowed. His body ached again, and he reached over to his morphine drip to increase the dose.

He glanced back towards her. She hadn't moved an inch.

"Hey," he said finally, his voice still hard.

Her cerulean blue eyes glanced up at him.

"I didn't mean to scare you." He spoke softer this time.

"You didn't," she responded, honesty thick in her voice.

She never ceased to surprise him. He always thought he had such a good read on her, but he was practically always wrong. Pepper was no average woman. She was indeed one-of-a-kind.

She was amazing. There were no other words to describe her. In that moment, Tony was absolutely certain there was no way to live without her. Many things were still unsaid, yet to be discussed. But that could be resolved. One thing was certain: she could never leave him again. Everything around him was shattered, but like an electro-magnet she was creating a charge to slowly bring it back together.

He didn't smile, but he wanted too. Everything was too fresh, too raw to try and smile. Instead he just stared, like an idiot. She finally looked away, out the window at the noon-day sun, the brightest it had been all day.

-O-O-O-

_December 17__th__, 1995_

Tony finally gained release early the next morning. Obadiah had brought him some clothes from home: a pair of sweats and an MIT sweatshirt. He had also insisted that Pepper go to the car first, lest the press be waiting outside. The situation was already complicated enough without having to explain some random girl.

There were no reporters, but some of the sleazier paparazzi had their ways of stealth and Tony doubted they were completely in the clear. As the car pulled around for him, he stood slowly from the wheelchair they'd brought him out in.

As the doctor had said, his right side was incredibly sore. It was covered in ugly black and purple bruises from his hip to the top of his ribs. He hadn't even been able to lift his arms to pull the sweatshirt over his head; a nurse had to help him shrug into it. Sometimes he found it hard to take a breath because of his cracked ribs. When he stood from the chair, he felt the pinching feeling in his lungs again, but didn't dare show it.

Obadiah opened the door for him, and he slid into the back seat. Not one to favor his injuries, he disregarded the nurse's attempt to buckle his seatbelt for him like a child, but he did let her pull it behind his head so it didn't rest against the bandage on his neck.

He felt like a mummy, bandaged up like this. He smiled at the irony as the door closed. The walking dead.

Pepper sat quietly beside him, hands in her lap.

Another surprise. He figured she would fawn over him like everyone else. But once again, she astounded him. She was content to give him his space.

Eventually, she turned to stare out the window and her hand fell on the seat between them.

After a few moments, his hand slid over hers. His bandages snagged briefly against her smooth skin. But at his touch, the spaces between her fingers widened and he took the opportunity to fill the gaps with his own fingers. He didn't miss the smile that she tried to hide with her free hand as she stared out the window. And he didn't miss the spark of heat ignite within his chest.

It wasn't enough to warm him. Not yet. But it was a start.


	15. Color Blind

AN: So I've been talking with my beta, and she realized one of my future plot elements is flawed in timing. So…I've kind of decided to make a BIG change in the direction where I'm going with this. I want your thoughts on it though, since you're the fans and I'd like your input. I'm going to finish this part, probably bring it back around to the month of May. Then I'm going to skip 5 years of time to where Pepper has already been hired. I will most likely do a little one-shot about her getting the job as Tony's PA. Or, if you'd like me to go chronologically, I'm sure I can brainstorm some new plot elements, however I don't want to bore you with the business details of Stark Industries, unless you'd like to be bored with them, haha. Anyways, let me know what you'd like to see, or what you wouldn't like to see. And as always, enjoy! :)

-O-O-O-

Color Blind - Counting Crows

-O-O-O-

_December 20__th__, 1995_

His breath made thin clouds of vapor where he stood, among many others that had attended the funeral. He pulled his coat tighter around him and ducked his chin into his scarf, trying to keep warm. A thin sheet of snow was dripping drowsily onto men's overcoats and women's gloves as they dabbed their eyes with handkerchiefs.

Most of the crowd stood huddled under an awning to keep out of the weather, but Tony stood outside, letting the snow melt into his jacket and cling to his hair. Pepper was nearby, her stylish black coat huddled around her, her hands shoved deep in the pockets. They hadn't spoken a word to each other all day.

She'd slept in one of the guest rooms the entire time she'd been in New York. In all honesty, he preferred it that way. It wasn't that he didn't want to be around her, but rather he wanted to be alone. There was a fine line between the two. Not to mention she probably wouldn't approve of the copious amounts of scotch he'd digested in nights previous.

She seemed to understand that no words could suffice, and therefore she kept silent, giving him space. The closest they'd been all day was when he sat alone in his pew at the church, ignoring the lull of conversation behind him as people greeted one another. She'd slid in beside him and placed a gentle hand on his knee, which he instantly took in his own.

He hadn't cried. Not a single tear. Mostly, he just felt lifeless. He stared blankly ahead, watching the caskets as they were brought forward by a handful of men, Obadiah among them.

Funerals verged on gruesome, he thought as he watched from a few feet away. Though neither body was fit for viewing, it made him cringe to think that his parent's mangled bodies rested just beneath a layer of oak and satin.

He let out a heavy breath as the caskets were lowered and he felt Pepper's fingers curl around his elbow. He heard her sniffle softly, but even hearing her tears wasn't enough to bring up any emotion inside of him.

After everything was said and done, he turned to her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and she ran a gloved hand under her nose. When their eyes met, he gave her a shrug. What was done was done. He wasn't planning on sticking around for conversation with the various board members, employees, and family friends. He didn't want to hear their condolences. They were all dry, empty, and meaningless.

Once they'd settled themselves in the car, Pepper's hand finally found his and he realized that the cuts on his fingers had become painfully numb from the cold. It hurt to bend his fingers, so his hand just laid limply against the seat, her palm pressed to his.

-O-O-O-

Later in the afternoon a dinner party had been planned that Tony furiously tried to get himself out of. But Obadiah insisted he at least make an appearance. He brought Pepper along to keep himself sane and made sure his temper was doused in a glass of scotch before leaving.

There were more people here than had been at the funeral. Of course. Entice people with food and drink and they'd flock like pigeons; invite them to the funeral of the man who'd kept their sorry carcasses on payroll for half their lives and only a few would come to offer their respects.

He and Pepper stayed away from the crowd most of the time, until someone would call Tony over to offer some arid apology. He was beginning to get tired of hearing the words, "Sorry for your loss," or "They both will be terribly missed." Everyone sounded like a Hallmark card. Flat and disposable.

Many people commented on how well he looked, and his previous outburst with the doctor at the hospital briefly flashed before his eyes. He didn't want anyone to feel sorry for him. They asked about his hands and his neck, and he answered in one-word answers. Fine. Good. Not that they genuinely cared anyways.

As they passed by Obadiah and the group of people he was chatting with, Tony caught a bit of their conversation.

"Well technically, the will left it in Tony's hands, but he's got another semester of school to go, so I just don't see him taking over just yet," Obadiah was saying.

"But he will eventually?" one man asked.

"Of course. We didn't expect it to be this soon. We're all still in shock, and the company…well it's a bit of disarray right now. For one thing, we were about to shut down for the holidays, and then this happened. No one knows where to go from here. But I think I'll sit Tony down, have a conversation with him. Take him under my wing, teach him the ropes. He'll be running things in no time."

"But he's young yet, don't you think? A little immature?"

"Well," Obadiah began, but Tony grabbed his elbow.

"Excuse me. Can I have a word?" he asked, his jaw set.

"Sure, my boy," Obie said cheerily, leading Tony away from the group of men and Pepper.

"What the hell was that?" Tony asked once they were alone.

Obadiah chuckled passively. "What?"

"You're discussing business with some schmuck I don't even know at my _parents'_ memorial?"

He rolled his eyes and rocked back on his heels. "Look, Tony. It was just casual conversation."

"No it wasn't. You're discussing matters that we haven't even had the opportunity to discuss as a company yet."

Obadiah chucked again, and put a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Listen, Tony. A decision has to be made."

"Exactly. And that decision is between you, and me. Not anyone else. It's a private matter."

Obadiah nodded, defeated. "You're right. How about dinner? After Christmas? We can discuss things then."

"That's fine. I'll be there."

The older man patted his back. "Great. Everything's gonna be great."

Tony nodded stiffly. "Yeah. Sure."

Obadiah patted his back once more before turning towards some other group of men and women, his arms open wide in welcome. "Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Rochester. And the beautiful Emily. Thank you for coming."

Tony narrowly avoided getting caught in the conversation when he caught Emily's eye. Instead, he darted quickly across the room, searching for Pepper's bright red hair over the crowd.

When he found her she was alone by the refreshments, martini in hand. Silently, he took the drink from her and placed it on the table behind her. "We're leaving," he said.

"What? Leaving? You can't…"

But he didn't let her finish. He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the door.

-O-O-O-

Once home, Tony led her directly to his bedroom. He just wanted to be alone. Where voices weren't crowding his mind and people weren't handing out limp apologies and condolences. He couldn't watch Obadiah acting like nothing had happened, wearing the fake smile that he always had ready for the press.

His hands grabbed at his hair, ruining it's perfectly coiffed style. "Lock the door," he bit out at her, a little harsher than he should have, but he heard the lock click into place anyways.

Her hand rounded his shoulder and she stood before him, her eyes wide with genuine concern. "Here, let's get you out of this tux." She made a move for his bowtie, but he yanked away from her, backing himself against the wall.

Looking a bit bewildered, she instinctively stepped back, not wanting to be in his way when he finally exploded. Her hands worked nervously in front of her, and he noticed all her nails had been bitten to the quick.

His hands found the first things they could, sweeping over the top of his dresser. Several books thudded to the floor, their pages fluttering. But it wasn't loud enough to satiate him. His search led him to the bedside table, where he swung at the scotch bottle and highball glass, finally appeased when they both shattered on impact against the wall, and the scotch bottle's contents bled into the plush carpet.

He turned back to Pepper, his chest heaving.

Her hands covered her ears and she was nearer to the door than before. Her eyes were wild, almost clear as they caught the lamp light. "Tony, your cuts," she spoke softly.

He stared down at his bandaged hands. Blood seeped through the pure white cotton, the results of his tirade. He looked back to her defenselessly and held his hands out, like a boy who needed help but didn't know how to ask for it.

Silently, her hands dropped from her ears and she guided him to sit on the edge of the bed. She disappeared into the adjoining bathroom and returned quickly with a fresh roll of bandages. She crouched before him on her knees and took hold of his hands.

She gently removed the soiled bandages and discarded them on the floor. She'd clean them up later with the rest of his mess. He visibly shivered when he saw the results of his outburst. The cuts were oozing blood, and looked almost as bad as they had when they were fresh.

Her hands, gentle and practiced, cupped his own as she worked. He heard her sniffle softly, but something in him wouldn't let him look up at her.

Once the finished, she let him go and returned to the bathroom, but only shortly to deposit the bandages.

He sat limply on the bedside, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands spread out in front of him. The tips of her heels entered his vision once more, and finally his chocolate brown eyes looked up at her. She stood there with that soft smile of hers that was usually so reassuring. He was frightened, terrified. He didn't know what to do. Both of them, just like that. They were gone. And what now? He needed her to tell him. Someone to tell him.

Suddenly, her figure before him was clouded and blurred, and she was twisted into an unrecognizable form. Without warning, tears dripped onto his dress pants.

"No," she said, as if she were watching a train wreck happen before her eyes. "No. Shhh…" She stepped forward now, her arms around him.

The moment she touched him, everything crumbled. He released an angry, raw sob.

She pressed him closer, his forehead resting against her chest.

He sucked in an empty breath. Where had all the air gone? His hands grabbed for her, clung to her, asking her not to leave like everyone else had.

A furious, distressed moan escaped his lips, and it was obvious he had startled her at the sound, but she held him tighter, squeezing his body to hers, desperately trying to hold him together before any other pieces fell. She offered no words of comfort, but if she had it wouldn't have mattered. Nothing she could say could pacify him right now.

He curled into himself and curled into her at the same time, and she moved so they were in a horizontal position on the mattress.

The tears were coming freely now, and his nose was running liberally. He was sure he looked like a fool, and felt like one too. But it didn't seem to matter to her. She just held him. His sobs were gasping, groaning. Desolate. Struggling for air that had seemed to abandon his lungs. She buried her hands in his hair, combing through it methodically. His head was buried against her chest. He gripped at the fabric of her dress, balling it in his fist.

He stayed curled against her, but eventually his sobs had quieted to breathless heaves. Pepper's hands still moved through his hair, and he concentrated on the rhythmic motion.

He felt like he'd just run a marathon. The inside of his chest felt raw and empty, like a cavern. He was exhausted. His muscles seemed to melt into the mattress. His very being seemed to be dissolving.

Her fingers in his hair were the last thing he remembered.

-O-O-O-

They'd fallen asleep on top of the blankets, in their clothes, shoes and all. Her hand had stopped midway through his hair, and rested there, on the side of his face, still holding him close. Her breath was soft at his ear.

When his eyelids finally opened, he became aware of the pain in his side, stiff and throbbing from lack of movement. His hands were sore too, one resting loosely around Pepper's waist and the other at his chin. Slowly, he moved away from her.

She didn't wake. She just gave a little sigh of discomfort at the movement. He draped her arm across her abdomen, and bent to kiss her cheek. She must be exhausted; she'd done so much in the past few days, and he could probably count on one hand how many hours of sleep she'd gotten.

Tenderly, he removed his tux jacket and shirt and abandoned them by the bathroom door. He flicked on the lights in the bathroom and flinched at what he saw in the mirror.

He cursed under his breath. His side was still black and plum-colored. The bruises ghosted along his skin in a gruesome pattern. Neither the cut on his forehead nor his neck looked any better. His palms pressed against the cool counter and he hung his head, whitewashed.

Her shadow caught his eye in the mirror. He turned to face her at the doorway, his jaw set. "You should get some sleep," he said softly, his voice hoarse.

But she ignored him and stepped closer, reaching behind him for the package of large cotton bandages the hospital had sent home.

He caught her wrist. "No, I'll do it."

Her next move caught him off guard. She smiled. Smiled. The saddest, most heart-shattering smile he'd ever seen. Her eyes reminded him of the Malibu shoreline and he had to look away or risk drowning. She shook her head, and pulled the box closer, unrolling one square to cover his neck. Silent and tender as always, she went to work. Her fingers worked in precise, calculated motion. But she never once pressed too hard nor gave him any cause to think she was going to hurt him.

She finished taping off the bandage neatly, and he thought for a moment that if her business major ever did her wrong, she'd make a fine nurse.

Her fingers ghosted over the bruises on his side, and he nearly shivered, but not out of pain.

He leaned his palms back against the counter, resting there, watching her. "You hungry?" he asked.

-O-O-O-

He smiled at her from his side of the island. She wore his MIT sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, her hair tossed into a careless ponytail. She didn't notice him watching, and slurped a little too loudly at the milk and cereal in her spoon. He chuckled.

She glanced up, her cheeks reddening. "What?" A smirk played at her lips.

The corner of his mouth twitched. "Nothing." He looked back down at his cereal.

Obadiah entered the kitchen and tossed the morning paper onto the counter, immediately moving to the fridge. Tony's smile instantly faded.

"Morning, you two. I hope everything's alright, Tony. I heard a lot of commotion last night." He lean against the coutner and his eye brows rose in concern over the rim of his coffee cup.

Tony shoved his stool out with his knees, standing. He wasn't in the mood for Obadiah's accusations.

His bowl clattered loudly into the sink and he exited the kitchen without another word, leaving Pepper and Obie alone.

Pepper sighed over her own bowl, lifting the spoon to her lips. The echo of Tony's bedroom door slamming was audible, even from all the way upstairs.

Pepper didn't looked at Obie, but turned her head barely in his direction. "I think…I think he needs a little time, Obadiah."

"Of course, of course. I was just concerned for his wellbeing. I wasn't insinuating anything. I saw the broken glass Jarvis just cleaned up." He shrugged and lifted his cup again. "I have a right to be concerned."

"Yes, of course. But I think…I think it's best if he's left alone awhile." She turned to face him fully now.

He smiled at her and stepped towards her. His strong hands rested on her shoulders, the way an uncle would to a niece. "You are…a very rare woman, Ms. Potts."

Slowly, her lips worked into a smile. "Thank you."

-O-O-O-

When she returned to the bedroom, he was propped up In bed, a glass of amber liquid in hand, a book set against his chest. His eyes flickered her towards over the top of his book and he bent to set his drink on the table.

She crawled onto the bed and curled up next to him, careful not to jostle him too much. "What are you reading?"

"Integrated circuits."

"Which is?" she chuckled dryly, looking up at him.

He smirked down at her. Slowly, almost hesitantly, his arm came around her, his hand resting on her hip. His thumb ventured beneath the fabric of her sweatshirt, running softly along the skin above her jeans.

She took a long breath before speaking. "I have to leave tomorrow to go home."

"Ok," he said simply. "You're coming back," he continued, not completely a question but almost a statement.

"Yes, if you want me to. I can probably make it back for your birthday."

"That's fine…But…" He closed his textbook and sat upright, removing his arm from her waist. "There isn't going to be…a party or anything."

"No, I didn't expect there to be," she answered.

He sat a few inches apart from her on the mattress, and she had shifted to sit cross legged before him. Her hands rested between them. She fidgeted, picking at her nails. Maybe when she came back after Christmas, he'd send her out for a manicure. She desperately needed it after a week with him. His large hand came over hers, making her look up.

"I'm sorry about what happened. It was…"

"It was silly." She took the words right out of his mouth, leaving him speechless.

He swallowed deeply, and his eyes held hers.

"Thank you," he breathed.

Thank you. For putting up with him the past few days, through his tantrums and his tears. For taking the effort to switch her flight—which he knew had cost her a pretty penny—when she could've just as easily gone home. For being the only one holding him above water.

It was odd. He felt so close to drowning, but every time he looked at her, a new wave of emotion flooded him that was just as potent. He didn't have everything figured out yet. He was confused as to exactly what those feelings were. People might call it love, but love—at least in this sense—was practically foreign. It was bigger than love. It didn't have a name yet.

It felt like he was discovering a new element. Something bigger and better than everything before it. Something more advanced.

His hand lifted from where it rested on hers and came to the back of her head. His fingers combed through her short hair a few times.

"Why'd you cut your hair?" he finally asked. He'd been dying to know.

She laughed and looked away, and he took the opportunity to lean forward and place a kiss just beneath her ear. "I saw it on Friends. Jennifer Aniston, you know? The blonde-ish one?"

"The girl who never wears a bra?"

She chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Her. It didn't turn out the way I wanted, but I think it's cute."

"Mmm…" his murmured against her temple. "Didn't peg you as a follower, Potts."

"I'm not. But I know what I want."

Once again, she had shocked the hell out of him. Almost blindly, she found his lips. The kiss was at an odd angle, but not awkward. He breathed her in, filling himself with her. All too soon, she broke away and moved away from him, out of the bed. She threw him a wink before she disappeared into the bathroom.


	16. I Gave You All

I Gave You All - Mumford & Sons

-O-O-O-

_December 24th, 1995_

Silent.

Everything had gone silent since she'd left. The house had been left completely empty. It was almost like when she left, all life forms followed. Like she was some gravitational force drawing them near, but he was always one step behind.

Obie had left to spend Christmas with family in Manhattan. Jarvis had come briefly to check on him, but he'd given him leave until the first of the year to spend time with his daughter that had just flown in from London.

He lay in his bedroom, completely alone. The only sound in the house was the dull tick of the grandfather clock downstairs. What a miserable way to spend Christmas.

The bottle came to his lips once more and clear, bitter liquid trickled down his throat. He couldn't mark how many hours he'd laid here, but he knew that it was almost six in the afternoon by the chime of the clock. The only thing he kept measurement of was the amount of alcohol he'd drank since waking that morning. Four—or five—glasses of scotch, and then he'd broken out the vodka.

It was the perfect escape.

He didn't have to think about where she was, what she was doing at that moment. He didn't have to think about the company. He didn't even have to think about the memories that had been haunting him the past few days. The alcohol melted every thought into a homogenous mixture of apathy.

The phone ringing startled him out of his daze.

His head was swimming when he pushed himself upright.

He reached for the handset on the bedside table, but his vision tilted and it tumbled to the floor. He cursed as he reached for it, and a bit of the liquid from his bottle sloshed onto the quilt. By the time he'd finally gotten a hold of the thing, it stopped ringing.

He cursed again. The caller ID read Potts.

It was better that he hadn't answered. She probably wanted to wish him a Merry Christmas, and this year there would be no such thing. Besides, he'd become quite good at faking sobriety on telephones and in public, but he wasn't sure if he could muster the energy at the moment.

He flopped back on the mattress, but instantly regretted it. His head protested and threatened to explode, which he cured with another swig of vodka.

Maybe this wasn't such a bad way to spend the holidays after all.

-O-O-O-

At three in the morning, he found himself standing in the doorway to his father's office. Various papers littered the desk. His briefcase was still opened on the sturdy oak chair by the wall. The usual artwork still hung, though he wasn't able to name the artists. The desk chair had been pulled in front of the window, and a half-empty ashtray rested on the table next to it. The blinds were been pulled open, and he could clearly picture his father sitting in his desk chair, cigar in hand, gazing out the window, waiting for a spark of ingenuity.

Nothing had been changed. Time had been frozen inside the room.

The door clicked shut behind him as he stepped inside. The familiar smell of his father filled his lungs as he breathed in. Smoky, with hints of peppermint. Always that faint tinge of gunpowder and that often overpowering scent of aftershave.

He moved to the chair in front of his desk, and sank into its soft wine-colored cushion. He'd sat in this very chair many times over the years. When he was in trouble mostly. It was like being sent to the principal's office. He'd always dreaded it as a kid. His father had never been particularly harsh with punishment, but he knew how to lay the words on just right to make him feel two inches tall.

He didn't hate his father. No, that wasn't the word. He resented a lot of things about the man, but he wouldn't go as far as hate. He wished that a lot of things had been different, but they weren't. That was a simple fact of life. Facts had to be dealt with. Proofs could not be unproven, and if there was anything Howard Stark had proven over the years it was that business trumped everything.

Always, work came before everything. Maybe he hadn't even noticed he'd done it. But he'd shoved Tony into a corner, towering over him, daring him to make a move. When Tony had proved that he could go to toe-to-toe at the age of six with any of the engineers that worked for SI, it wasn't enough. Just when he'd finally gotten his boxing gloves on, ready for the fight, his father had shoved him back down again. It was never enough. Nothing he did was enough.

The only logical conclusion Tony could come to was that Howard didn't want to lose his footing. He didn't want to lose his position as Master and Commander to a puny six year old. So he'd treated every triumph with indifference. Maybe one day he could break the boy's resolve and he'd stop trying so hard. Maybe one day he'd submit to the power of the empire.

Then, when they'd decided to send him to boarding school, that had been the ultimate victory. Now the kid was completely out of the picture.

But Tony hadn't given up. He kept pushing. Kept inventing. Kept succeeding. But it was expected, he supposed, from Howard Stark's son. The prodigal son. It was nothing to wonder about that genius spawned genius. And therefore, nothing he'd done was ever truly impressive enough to earn him so much as a pat on the back.

Maybe he was completely wrong. This was only a hypothesis. There really wasn't point in dwelling on it. It was the past, and what was gone could never be returned, especially when it hadn't even existed in the first place.

-O-O-O-

_December 25__th__, 1995_

If only bars were opened on Christmas, then he wouldn't have to lay here all alone. Lonliness was quite tiring. Tony thrived on being the center of attention, the life of the party. But with no one around, he was devastatingly bored.

His only company was the bottle in his hand. The funny thing about binge drinking was that it was relatively easy. He filled his stomach with food: whatever Jarvis had prepared before leaving and left in the fridge for him. But other than that, he drank. And that was all.

The Christmas tree in the front window was taunting him. He had asked Jarvis to donate all the presents, and though the man had looked at him like he'd gone crazy, he did as he was asked. Now the tree sat there, looking bare and scrawny, a reminder of what today could've been.

He thought of taking it out and setting fire to it in the backyard. But somehow that seemed extreme. He just let it sit there, ornaments glinting in the light. This was the last Christmas tree he would ever have, he vowed to himself. There was no point in having Christmas when there was no one to spend it with. He assumed even the basest, most downtrodden human beings had some sort of invitation somewhere today. He was the only one alone. This was absolutely pathetic.

Another thing about loneliness was that it let one stew in their emotions, which Tony wasn't at all used to. He began to dwell on memories that he'd tucked away in the recesses of his mind. Ones that he'd forced himself to forget.

He'd come to the conclusion that he was no better than his father. He treated people with the same indifference and crudeness as his father had. His ego was the size of the Milky Way, and expanding just as rapidly. Not to mention his propensity for alcohol. Maybe some things were genetic.

But with Pepper, he could change things. He could treat her differently. She'd said before that she deserved it, and there was no doubt in his mind that she did. She deserved the world. But something held him back. He didn't want to take the dive just yet. Mostly because of his own insecurities. He would hurt her, and he wouldn't take responsibility to sweep up the pieces. That much he already knew. And the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

But he was addicted. He needed her, in every sense of the word. He needed her like a compass in the forest. He needed her to extinguish the fire in his bones. He needed every part of her.

If Tony knew anything about addictions, he knew they were a vicious circle. Addictions hurt, and people began to turn that hurt right around on others. He'd devote himself to her, fall on his knees before her, and the minute he screwed things up, that would be that. They could never go back. He would never trust anyone else, and neither would she. He could ruin himself, but he wouldn't ruin her.

So here he sat, going back and forth between yes and no. It was too dangerous. It was too hard of an equation, and he didn't want to find the answer right now. Instead, he took another swig and leaned back on the soft leather of the couch in the living room.

He perched the bottle on his chest and peered through the clear glass. He watched the way the liquid bent the light and distorted the images on the opposite side. This was the only thing that was simple right now.

-O-O-O-

_December 28__th__, 1995_

Nine hours. She'd driven like a maniac to get here, and she was lucky she hadn't gotten flagged down by any police men on her way. Finally, nine hours later Pepper could stretch her legs and rest. She unfolded herself from the car and grabbed her bag and the pizza from the backseat.

He wasn't in the mood for a party. It was too soon. That much she understood, but she at least wanted to do something special for him. So she'd swung by a place in Manhattan when she passed through and ordered a deep dish with all the toppings.

Being away for the past week had been hard. She constantly worried about him. He was all alone here in this big house, but there wasn't anything to do be done. She doubted her parents would accept to having him over, and she doubted he would even want to, so she hadn't even offered. She should've, maybe, so he wouldn't have had to spend Christmas alone. But she assumed that was the way he wanted it. He needed time right now, and throwing him into her crazy family traditions wouldn't help.

It was almost midnight, but she knew he would be awake. He was a night owl. She knocked on the front door, and was surprised when she didn't see his reflection in the fluted glass. This time she rang the bell, but there was no answer.

Apprehension began to stir inside her. She hoped he hadn't left. After his incident in Massachusetts, there wasn't anything she wouldn't put past him. And on these icy roads, he was even more of a danger to himself if he'd left in a state less than sober.

Her hand fell to the door knob and she found the door open. Odd. But she entered anyways, hoping she wouldn't startle him. "Tony?" she called, her voice echoing against the marble tiles of the foyer.

The Stark mansion was truly a masterpiece. It was the quintessence of wealth, and she assumed this wasn't the only house they owned. She noticed the Monet that hung on the wall, and upon further inspection she saw it was a first edition. Her parents weren't poor, by any means, but there was no way they had the money or the connections to get their hands on a first edition Monet.

She peeked to her right into the large living room and didn't see him there. She doubted he would be in the dining room, or the kitchen.

"Tony?" she said again, a mix of worry and annoyance apparent in her voice. If this was joke, it wasn't funny.

She made for the stairs and balanced the pizza expertly as she ascended.

His bedroom door was cracked open, and once again she took the liberty to enter without waiting. He was propped up on the bed, leaning against the headboard. A large, half-empty bottle of vodka was balanced precariously on his thigh. His eyes were glassy and glazed in the lamp light. When they flickered in her direction, she was concerned for a moment that he didn't recognize her. He'd probably been here all night, all day. From the look of his unwashed hair and clothes, she knew her assumption was correct.

"Hi," she said softly.

A part of her knew she would find him like this, but she had ignored it. She hadn't wanted to believe it. She'd known all along he'd get himself into some kind of hell, but she hadn't expected to walk straight into it.

But she wasn't going to chastise him. He didn't need reprimanding right now.

She ducked inside, holding the pizza in front of her as a bribe to get him out of bed, or as a weapon, whichever came first.

"Hi," he echoed her.

"Can I come in?"

"You already did," he answered, but not angry. She noticed his words were slightly slurred.

She smiled and ducked her head. "I brought a pizza." She took a few careful steps towards the bed and slid onto the edge of the mattress nearest him.

"Pizza sounds good," he said softly.

Her fingers came around the neck of the bottle he held, and their eyes locked on one another's. For a moment, his brows burrowed and she felt his muscles tense. She was worried that he wasn't going to give it up. She thought quickly, not wanting to anger him. She wasn't going to treat him like a child like everyone else seemed to. He didn't need anyone else telling him he was wrong.

She gave him a smile, assuring him that it was ok. Assuring him that he didn't have to do this to himself. She was here now.

Wordlessly, he let his hand drop from the bottle. He looked defeated, disappointed, but only in himself.

She retrieved the cap from the floor and placed it on the bedside table.

"Scoot over," she instructed, and he rolled away a few feet to allow her room. She kicked off her shoes and propped herself on the pillows next to him. Now she lay between him and the bottle.

She set the pizza between them; one side on her lap, the other on his. As soon as she opened the box, he grabbed for a piece.

"You came back," he observed through a mouthful of cheese and toppings.

"I told you I was."

"Didn't think you were…" he said, and she felt her heart break. He hadn't trusted her promise that she'd come back. He'd been turned aside by the only person he ever wanted to love him, and he thought she was doing the same.

Her hand found his on the mattress. "I'll always be here," she said softly. She felt his brown eyes burning into the side of her face, and she turned to face him.

"Don't say things you don't mean," he said, his voice the clearest she'd heard it all night.

For a moment she was speechless. He was right. How could she possibly say that she'd always be here for him? The future was unknown, and there was no doubt that one of them would end up hurting the other.

She swallowed, and took a breath. "I'll be here as long as you want," she rephrased herself, and that seemed to satisfy him. He went back to eating his pizza quietly.

Their hands were still intertwined on the mattress.

They ate in comfortable silence. He asked a few questions about how her Christmas had been, which she answered vaguely. This year had been hard without Peter. He eventually grew bored and began to sing Happy Birthday to himself, and she joined in the last chorus.

When they had their fill, she leaned over to set the box on the floor. When she turned back to face him, his head was tipped back against the headboard, his eyes closed.

"Are you tired?" she asked, running her fingertips along his arm.

His head rolled side to side. "No. I was just thinking about how soft this mattress is, and how great you'd feel pressed against it."

Her eyes rolled and she shook her head. "Tony…"

One eye cracked open, looking her up and down. "You know you want to."

"No, I don't." She turned to slide off the mattress but he caught her wrist.

"Why do you always do that?" he asked, sounding almost angry.

She was content to keep him company in this state, but if he was going to get beligerant, she wouldn't be so kind. Her head swiveled back around to face him, glaring at him. "Tony, quit."

"I can't quit," he answered throatily. Before she could react his lips were on hers. He tasted like vodka and pizza. It made her stomach churn. She tried to pull away, but he was having none of it. His hand grabbed the back of her neck, pulling her closer to him on the mattress, and finally she got the strength to shove him away.

He stared at her, dazed, his brows furrowed in confusion.

She stood from the mattress. "Get some sleep, Tony," she spoke, and moved for the door.

"I love you," he blurted from his spot on the mattress, still with that look on his face. He didn't really know what he was saying.

She sighed, her hand on the doorknob. "Don't say things you don't mean." She shot his own words right back at him, and left the room, letting the door click back into place. Swiftly, she moved down the hall to the guest bedroom she'd slept in the past week. She didn't notice the moisture on her cheeks until she laid down and tiny drops soaked themselves into her pillow.


	17. Don't You

Don't You - Darren Criss

-O-O-O-

_December 29__th__, 1995_

Pepper was at the counter sipping a cup of coffee when he finally rose at noon. His hair was a mess and he wore the same clothes as yesterday. His eyes were bleary and squinted in the raw daylight.

"Morning," he said, moving for the coffee pot.

"Hey," she replied. "You slept long enough," she teased.

"I've got the biggest hangover," he ground out. He pulled open various drawers in the kitchen, searching for aspirin. Honestly, he didn't know where anything in the kitchen was except cereal and coffee.

He heard her take a breath from behind him. She held it for almost ten seconds before she exhaled and spoke again. He could hear her next words in his head before they even came out of her mouth, and he wished he could ignore them. "Do you…remember what happened last night?"

"No," he lied easily. Of course he did. He knew exactly what he'd said and what had happened afterwards. He didn't want to talk about it. She obviously didn't feel the same or she wouldn't have left. He only hoped she wasn't about to repeat the whole incident back to him. He wasn't sure if he could stomach having it replay in his mind.

Thankfully she didn't say anything else about the subject. Her fingers drummed against her coffee cup. She didn't know why she was letting him hurt her like this. It wasn't as if he was trying to. It was her own stubborn pride holding her back. She wanted to tell him she loved him too, but it would only end badly for both parties. These feelings between them were only fleeting—or so she assumed—and she couldn't let herself get into another relationship where she'd end up hurt. Tony Stark had a reputation with girls, and she wouldn't be another notch in the bedpost. She chose not to believe that what he'd said last night was true, though she desperately wanted it to be. But he was drunk and he didn't know what he was saying. It was blurted out in haste. In a needy plea for company that she wasn't yet willing to give.

He turned to face her, coffee in hand. They stared at one another a long time in silence. He studied her furiously. It was hard to decode anything behind those eyes that were tinged indigo in the noon-day light filtering through the vaulted windows.

Finally he broke the tension. "What are we doing, Pepper?"

She lifted her cup instinctively higher, trying to hide behind it. "What do you mean?"

His eyes closed and he grabbed the bridge of his nose. "I mean us, Pepper."

"I thought we were…" Just friends, she had wanted to say. But this wasn't friendship. She was lying to herself. Friends didn't kiss like they had. Friends didn't need one another like this. This was toxic if capped at friendship. "I…I don't know," she finally admitted with a sigh. "I don't know."

She stared at him, as if staring long enough would make him speak, but instead the words exploded from her own mouth. "I just don't want to be another fling, you know? I care about you, I really do. But everyone knows how you are. And if we…if we did this, it would look…bad. And I can't do the whole mystery-celebrity-girlfriend thing. I just can't." She paused, waiting for a response, but she just continued anyways. "I don't want to keep pretending this is something it's not. I wish we could say that we could have a normal relationship, but it won't be like that. It's always going to be messy."

"No, Pepper," he whispered, looking out the window.

Now she was silent. She stared at him, her brows furrowed.

He shook his head. "You're overlooking everything." His gaze broke from the window and fell to his coffee cup.

"I…" She began.

"Don't you get it, Pepper?" His head snapped up to look at her. "I'm an addict. I find what I like and I latch onto it. And right now, it's you."

"I know, that's what I'm trying to say," she continued, but he stopped her.

"No. You don't get it, Pepper." He shook his head and held the bridge of his nose again when his head started to pound. "Hear me out. This is really hard to say, because I don't usually do this…I…" he sighed. He was just going to come out and say it. "I _need _you, Pepper. I can't function without you."

"No, but I…"

"Will you let me finish?" he asked, getting frustrated at her interruptions. This was hard enough in and of itself. She pursed her lips.

"I sat around for five days just wishing you'd hurry the hell up and come back. I wake up thinking about you, I go to bed thinking about you. And this is cliché and stupid…" This was pointless. Nothing he was saying was right, and he couldn't find the right words to tell her.

"I'm just going to tell you up front that you're probably going to get hurt somewhere along the line. That's a given. But if you can bear with me I'll try and make it up to you. I apologize in advance for any asshole moves I make, because there will be plenty. But you're not just some girl, Pepper. You're special. And you should know I really mean that because no other girl is worth going through all this mess for."

She laughed breathily.

"So what I'm trying to say is…that I like you, and I wanna try this out, if you do."

She nodded, her resolve finally breaking. "Yeah, I do."

His mouth quirked up into a tiny smile.

And that was that. He'd committed himself. Now he had to uphold the commitment. This was going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done, he could already tell.

-O-O-O-

It all felt quite domestic really; the two of them going out shopping together. For groceries, at an actual grocery store. Tony wasn't one for domesticity, but he was surprised at how easy it felt with her. He followed behind while she picked out the produce she would need to cook—what had she called it?

"Hey, Pep. What's this stuff called again?" he asked, sauntering back in her direction from his venture to the sweets aisle.

"Gnocchi Sorrentina."

"Bless you," he quipped, tossing a box of Twinkies into the cart, which she promptly removed.

"It's vegetarian," she informed him, turning back to grab a bag of potatoes.

"Oh, here we go again." He rolled his eyes and tried to slip in a package of Oreos.

She removed them as well. "Would you stop? You have the diet of a five year old."

"But Mom," he whined and stomped his foot impudently.

"And don't even think about throwing a fit in the cereal aisle," she said over her shoulder. Her hands gripped the cart and she continued down the aisle, but his hands came over hers. He stood behind her, his mouth close to her ear.

"Will I get a spanking if I do?" he growled.

She sent an elbow backwards to clip him in the stomach. "Stop it." She couldn't hold back a smile at his antics, but she was quick to hide it when he fell into step beside her.

"What's for dessert?"

"I'm surprised you aren't twenty pounds heavier," she deadpanned, wheeling towards the dairy section.

"I work out." He held up his arms, modeling for her. He flexed, and she felt her heart skip. "Welcome to the gun show, sweetheart."

"You're obnoxious."

"You're gorgeous."

She ignored his comment and tossed in a package of mozzarella.

When she looked up, he was gone again. But he returned in no time with a gallon of cookie dough ice cream. She supposed she could let that one slide.

-O-O-O-

After eating her homemade dinner, they ate their ice cream right out of the carton while sitting on the couch watching cartoons.

"I really do think you're five years old. Is there something you aren't telling me?" She pointed her spoon at him accusingly.

"I just enjoy the simple things."

"Simple _minded_," she mumbled under her breath and took another bite.

Before she knew it, he tossed the carton on the coffee table and she was pinned against the leather couch cushions. "Wanna repeat that?" He smirked down at her.

"You heard me," she challenged.

His fingers skittered over her abdomen, threatening. She giggled softly and he tickled harder, making her back arch.

"Please not again. You know I hate this," she begged through giggles.

"Oh but its oh-so-much-fun to watch you squirm." His hand slipped under her shirt and she involuntarily shoved him in the chest, trying to push him away. She caught the spot where his ribs were still sore and he pulled away instantly, holding his side, his smile now gone.

Her hands flew to her mouth and she sat up. "Oh my God. I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?"

"No," he lied just to make her feel better. "Still sore there."

She brushed the backs of her fingers against his side where the bruises were. When her eyes fell on his again, he was glaring at her. But not out of pain, out of…almost anger. It took her aback a moment until it all clicked.

To him, she wasn't just refusing sex. She was refusing affection, because this was the only way he knew how to express affection. When she pushed him away like that, deep down somewhere it triggered something inside of him. A part of him that he probably didn't even know existed. That was why he'd gotten so angry last night; not because he was drunk and belligerent, but because she'd pushed the knife in his heart just a little bit deeper. She remembered the night in the hotel in North Carolina, and how he'd been willing to stop, but that was only because she'd tried to leave. He would rather have her stay than upset her, so he'd let that one slide. But now they were a couple. Now he needed to prove himself, and he wouldn't be stopped.

She had always done the right thing. But maybe love wasn't about doing the right thing. It was about doing the right thing for another person, even if it meant hurting yourself. Putting your own emotions and feelings on the line for another. This had always been something special to her, and it wasn't any less special now. But it was special in a different way. Maybe even more so, because it wasn't just about her, but about reassuring him in the process. She wasn't giving herself up like some immature girl trying to please her boyfriend. This wasn't peer pressure. This was real to him, and if it was real to him, it was real to her, too. She was willing to give him that.

"Hey," she said, her hand moving to rest on his cheek.

His eyes turned back to her, and they were stormier than before.

She leaned forward and pressed her lips to his. Long, tender, hoping he understood what she wanted to say but couldn't.

His hand moved to thread through her hair while she pulled at his shirt. He broke the kiss briefly to let her pull it over his head. Her hands ghosted over his skin, over the bruises on his side that looked much better than before, but not yet completely healed.

One hand expertly worked at the buttons on her blouse while the other coaxed her onto her back, against the smooth leather cushions.

"You sure this is ok? I mean, we're on the couch," she piped up, her breathing already heavy.

"It's fine," he whispered against her collar bones. He'd pushed her blouse down off her shoulders, but left the rest of it buttoned, wanting to take his time. With her, this was a process. Every move had to be calculated. This was so much unlike any other situation when he'd throw the girl back and have his way immediately. This mattered.

He marveled at the blotches of freckles on her shoulders and trailed his nose along them. He wanted to memorize every single one.

Her hands played in his hair, winding it around her fingers, pulling at it. He gave a soft grunt against her shoulder and she thought she might be hurting him again.

"Do you want to be on the bottom? Because I can…"

"Pepper."

"What?"

"Shut up."

"Ok." Finally, she took a breath and let herself relax.

She wasn't just a girl he'd picked up at a bar. She was meant to respected, to be treated with care. Like a brand new car.

Every move was slow and had meaning. It was almost like poetry, or a dance. Every gesture conveyed an expression of the heart that could be conveyed in no other language but this one. This language that existed only between them.

-O-O-O-

_December 30__th__, 1995_

She felt two hands press on either side her against the mattress and a familiar energy over her, indicating he was near. His breath blew lightly against her cheek and she groaned. If there was one thing she hated, it was someone waking her up. Pepper Potts enjoyed sleep, and she wouldn't have it interrupted for anything.

The thick comforter against her bare skin indicated she was in Tony's bed now, but she wasn't sure how she'd gotten here. She doubted he carried her due to the pain in his side, but she didn't remember him waking her up from where they laid on the couch.

"Just because I let you take my virtue last night doesn't mean you can treat me like a machine, Tony," she teased, her eyes still closed.

He chuckled, his breath at her neck now. "I just wanted to know if you wanted an omelet."

She quirked an eye brow without opening her eyes. "An omelet? You know how to make something other than cereal or coffee?"

"Yes. Omelets. And cereal and coffee." He smiled against her skin and she laughed.

"Sure. No onions."

"Thank God. Your breath is already bad enough."

She smacked his arm and he chuckled, pulling away from her. "Come down when you're ready," he said and she heard the door close moments later. She turned on her side and snuggled deeper into the soft, downy comforter.

-O-O-O-

Later in the evening, Tony made his way into a rather exclusive restaurant in Manhattan to meet Obie and discuss what was to be done with the company. He arrived thirty minutes late, in true Tony fashion, but blamed it on the traffic downtown, which was worse than usual because of the prep in Times Square for the New Year.

Obie ordered a bottle of Laphroaig and two glasses. Tony took one eagerly.

"I'd like you to come down to California and meet with the board. We're having a meeting on the tenth. That way we could discuss the state of stock and…"

Tony cut him off. "So we're just continuing on as if nothing happened?"

Obadiah chuckled, his usual action when he was uncomfortable. "What?"

"You just want to pick up where everything left off before the holidays, and before…they died?"

"Its business, Tony. We have to do things this way. We've already approved the press release and scheduled a press conference."

Tony put his hand up to make him pause. "Who's 'we'?"

"You and I, of course."

"No. No, I haven't approved anything."

"You've been a little…indisposed, Tony. I didn't want to upset you."

"Well from now on, you run everything by me."

"Tony," Obie sighed, stopping him. "As a longtime family friend… It would be my suggestion that you wait to take complete control of the company until you're older, perhaps twenty-one."

"But it's mine. Dad left it for me," Tony argued.

"Listen, Tony. " Obie smiled. "Do you really want to be in charge of a company now? You've got another semester of school to go. You're young and should have time to experience life before you are weighted down with the responsibilities of running a company like this."

Tony sighed and leaned back in his chair, throwing his version of an adult temper-tantrum.

"Think about it Tony, you should enjoy this time you have. Take that nice girl of yours to see the world. Travel. That girl might not be around forever." Obie said with knowing look and pressed a cigar between his lips.

Tony looked down at the table, sucking his teeth. "Yeah. You're right." He looked back up at Obie, nodding.

Obie smiled and let a puff of smoke from his mouth. "This summer, we'll start you off as head of Design and Research. Does that sound good?"

Tony nodded.

Obie lifted his glass of whiskey, smiling. "Cheers?"

He clicked his glass against the older man's. They both downed the heavy liquor in one quick gulp.

-O-O-O-

He returned home around midnight, only slightly more than buzzed thanks to Obie. He eased up the stairs, removing his jacket and tie in process. He tossed them on the floor inside his dark room. Pepper's gentle breathing was the only sound in the darkness. Her fair skin was illuminated by the landscape lighting outside, slightly obscured by the sheer curtains. He unbuckled his belt and let his dress pants fall beside the bed.

She shifted at the noise he was making, but didn't wake.

When he crawled in beside her, his arm slipped around her waist and she instantly melded her body against his.

"Hey," he whispered and she grunted in response.

"You want to go to France?" he asked.

"OK," she breathed sleepily, and shifted closer to him.


	18. The Truth

The Truth – Kris Allen

_January 2__nd__, 1996_

It was decided that they would travel to France in early March. Luckily, both of their breaks fell on the same week. They had enjoyed a quiet New Year's Day together before Pepper left early that morning to sort things out at school before the new semester started. She was headed to California to meet her parents, where they were waiting to help her move into her new apartment.

So now he was alone again, staring down at the front page of the _New York_ _Times._ Just one day after the accident, they had run an article on the details of the incident and speculations on where the company would go from here. Today, they'd run an article on Tony's own lack of qualification and the inattentiveness with which he might treat a company of this magnitude. They'd dug up dirt on his DUI arrest from back in July, and every account they could get of his escapades with women.

This time it wasn't as simple as it had been in July. This time they were going for the jugular.

Jarvis entered the kitchen to pile Tony's breakfast dishes into the dishwasher.

"Have you seen this?" Tony asked, holding up the paper.

"Yes, sir. I read it earlier this morning. It seems they're making this into quite the scandal."

"It's ridiculous," Tony scoffed and tossed the paper back down on the counter. He pressed his fingertips to his temples. "And from the _Times? _I thought they would have more respect for themselves than that."

Jarvis didn't answer but went about dutifully cleaning the kitchen.

For as long as Tony could remember, Jarvis had been working for the Stark family. He had been the one to drop him off at the airport when he was shipped off to boarding school, and he'd always been the first smiling face Tony saw when he came home for visits. Though the Englishman was oftentimes stiff and extremely work-oriented, he had always treated Tony with a sense of friendship. When he was younger, Tony assumed it was out of pity because he didn't have many friends, and his own father seemed to ignore him. But as he grew up he realized it was because under Jarvis's proper English exterior, he actually enjoyed his company. Besides Maria, Tony had been the most welcoming family member. While Howard only ordered him around all the time and only rarely showed appreciation, Jarvis didn't seem to mind cleaning up after Tony.

When he was a child, Tony had had a tendency to play practical jokes, and Jarvis had always ended up as the blunt of them. But more than a few times, he caught Jarvis smiling over his afternoon tea when he'd discovered the sugar had been replaced with salt, or heard him chuckle from the kitchen when Tony had taped the spray nozzle closed on the sink. Jarvis didn't take these jokes as demeaning, but as a little something that made his monotonous job a little more entertaining.

But now, with his parents gone, there seemed to be no reason to keep Jarvis around. Tony watched him as he loaded the dishwasher and flicked the machine on. The man's back was turned to him as he moved to rummage through the freezer.

"What would you like for dinner, sir?" he asked.

"I'll take care of it," Tony said after a beat.

They both knew Tony couldn't cook anything on his own. He'd never had to, and was virtually inept at managing anything other than the microwave.

Jarvis glanced back at the man at the counter. Tony gave him a weak smile, ensuring him that all these years of service had been enough. Now it was time to move on.

"Go home, Jarvis," he said.

They stood for a while, staring at one another. After a moment, Jarvis cracked a small smile, and Tony noticed for the first time that his tired grey eyes twinkled when he did so. "Thank you, sir."

They shared a firm handshake and Tony ensured that his wages, as well as a little extra, would be sent within the week. The sturdy front door clicked into place, indicating Jarvis's final departure. Tony once again resolved himself to being completely and utterly alone.

-O-O-O-

_January 4__rd__, 1996_

Now there were no strings attached. Pepper had gone, Jarvis had been released, and things had been settled with Obie. He returned to Cambridge after nearly a month of being gone. So much had changed since he left this place, and somehow it didn't feel the same to him, though everything was just as he'd left it. He never understood what people meant by 'the more things change, the more they stay the same', but now he understood.

He slipped back into his darkened apartment, feeling almost like a ghost, like he didn't really belong. It was strange. He flicked on the kitchen light and immediately went for the liquor.

The gentle buzz of the air conditioning reminded him that he was indeed, alone. Funny how he tended to feel so completely empty without her. He was so helplessly dependent that it was almost sad.

For only a few days he'd gotten to have her for his own. It was almost as if no one else existed but the two of them. She was the glue that held him together. But now they were an entire continent apart. He only hoped Newton's law of universal gravitation didn't apply here.

The prospect that he might love her frightened him. The 'L' word was taboo. Instead, he preferred compulsive infatuation. It was much safer, much more…him. Obsessive, neurotic, habitual. Not to mention more descriptive. Love could mean many things, but this was more specific.

He thought about calling her. It was only eleven at night, which meant it would be eight on her side of the world, but he thought better of it.

Instead he plopped himself on the couch with a bottle of bourbon and eventually dulled his senses enough to manage a few hours of sleep.

-O-O-O-

_January 20__th__, 1996_

Pepper fumbled with her backpack and groceries as she unlocked the door to her Los Angles apartment. She dropped her bag and the groceries in her kitchen, and punched the button on her answering machine, just to see if he'd called. But the automated female voice told her otherwise.

She sighed and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. He hadn't called all week. But this was the first week back at school and she expected he was as busy as she was, so she gave him a little leeway.

Training for softball season was set to start next week, so she'd been extremely busy prepping herself since arriving back in California. She'd managed to snag a few tickets for her parents and a few for Tony, if he wanted them. She wasn't sure if he would show up at the games or not, but she assumed not if her parents were in attendance.

A knock on her door interrupted her. She left the groceries abandoned on the counter and moved to answer it, but not before peeking through the peephole. An unfamiliar man stood on the opposite side of her door, a medium-sized cardboard box under one arm. Odd, but she figured he was a neighbor, so she pulled open the door and leaned against the jamb.

"Hi, I'm James," the man began. "I live across the hall. Um…they dropped this at my place, but it must be yours." He peered at the label on the box. "_Pepper_ Potts?"

She chuckled softly and held out a hand to take her package. "Yeah. That's me." She knew instantly who had sent the package; anyone else would've addressed it to Virginia.

"Thanks," she answered, looking back up at him. His hair was cropped close against his dark skin, like Peter's had been when he left for basic training. He wore jeans and a plain t-shirt. Very simple. Pepper wasn't usually attracted to black men, but even she herself had to admit that his eyes were stunning, and she had to blink herself back to reality when he spoke again.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" he asked, shifting his weight.

She smiled politely. "I'm not sure. I go to UCLA. Maybe that's where you've seen me."

"No, I don't go to school. Well, I'm in the army. But you look really familiar."

Pepper shrugged. "I don't know. My brother's in the army too and we look a lot alike…"

He snapped his fingers, remembering. "Yeah. Potts. I knew I recognized the name from somewhere. We were in basic together."

Her eyes brightened and she straightened up. "Wow. What a small world."

James shifted his weight again, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Well since we live right across from each other, we should have coffee sometime."

She smiled. "Sure."

He straightened up. "Well, I'll see you later then, Pepper."

The corner of her mouth quirked. "Yeah. Goonight."

"'Night!" He waved, and she shut the door once he'd retreated a few steps.

She already had the box halfway opened by the time she made it back to the kitchen. On top, a note had been scribbled in Sharpie, reading: "If you need a study break."

She placed the note aside and pulled out a gorgeous emerald colored dress. The collar dipped low, but not excessively low, and the back was barely there except for two thin crisscrossing straps. When she held it up to herself, it fell at mid-calf.

In the bottom of the box were various boxes of junk food and candies. She had to smile, because it was so quintessentially Tony. On the outside, an outrageous, somewhat racy exterior, and on the inside—a part that people rarely saw—charismatic, but always in a such a way that he barely even noticed it in himself.

She was still admiring the dress when her phone rang, and she jumped at the receiver. "I just got your package," she said into the speaker.

"Package?" His voice sounded gruff, as if he'd just woken up. She glanced at the clock on the oven and calculated that it was eight at night in Massachusetts. "Oh._ That_ package."

She rolled her eyes.

"Well, you're welcome. You never know when I might show up at your door ready for a hot date."

"Please at least give me a twenty-four hour warning."

He grunted and there was a rustling. "How was school?"

"Really? You want to talk about school?" She shifted the phone between her ear and shoulder, rummaging around in the kitchen for something to eat for dinner.

"You're right. What are you wearing?"

"Were you sleeping?" She successfully changed the subject.

"No. Studying…the inside of my eyelids. What's for dinner, Potts? How's the new apartment? You gonna give me a tour?"

"Name the time and date, Stark."

"How about next weekend?"

"Ok."

"Great. See you then." A faint click indicated he'd hung up.

-O-O-O-

January 23rd, 1996

James had invited her out for coffee that Thursday night, and she accepted. Tony never even crossed her mind when making the decision. It was only friendship and Tony had no right to be jealous, should he ever find out. They met at a little café down the block, and had sat for almost an hour and a half just talking. They'd discussed Peter and what he was doing now. She'd gotten word that he'd be home in April, but James himself was only here for the next two weeks.

He'd grown up in Phoenix, and had only recently moved to LA, and she promised him a tour of the city.

She kept herself guarded, with Tony in the back of her mind as they talked. James wasn't her type, or so she told herself, though he seemed much more put together than Tony. Everything about him was simple and structured. He had a strong sense of himself that he made very apparent. He wore his heart on his sleeve in a way that Tony never did. She could appreciate James's company on a friendly level, but never anything else. She couldn't picture herself with him at all. Even the thought was silly to her.

"So," he asked finally, sipping his coffee. "You have a boyfriend?"

She laughed casually. "Yeah, I do."

"Figured. You're a good looking woman. I should've guessed someone snatched you up already."

She shrugged off his compliment, but smiled politely.

"Is he an army man too?"

"Um, no actually."

"Hmm…" he said over his coffee cup. "What's his name?" It wasn't as if he were prying. It was just something else to talk about.

Her cheeks reddened and she pushed her bangs from her eyes. "I can't…tell you."

James laughed out loud. "What, is he in the mob or something?"

"It's…just really complicated."

"Oh, I see. He must be on the run."

She laughed again. "No. Nothing like that."

"Alright, alright. I'll let you have your imaginary boyfriend. That's fine," he teased.

"No!" she laughed. "He's not imaginary."

"Mmm-hmm. Sure." He grinned.

She could've told him his name was Tony, but if he asked any further questions, it wouldn't be hard to figure out his full name. Grad student at MIT studying engineering and physics…there was only a handful and probably only one named Tony who'd just had his name written on the front page of the New York Times. It was too complicated to explain, and she wasn't sure that James wouldn't blurt the news to someone else and the next thing she knew, she'd be mobbed with journalists.

When they finally decided to separate for the evening, Pepper tried giving Tony a call, but there was no answer. She figured he was probably out at some party, as per usual when the week waned to an end.

Honestly, it ground her nerves a bit when she couldn't get in contact with him. Not that he should be constantly waiting beside the telephone, but her calls were hardly ever answered, and he always tended to call late in the evenings when she was too tired to make much conversation. At least she knew, or could assume, that no other women were around when he called so late.

She studied for a few hours, but didn't get much done, her mind elsewhere. Eventually, she gave up and dressed for bed.

-O-O-O-

January 24th, 1996

Panic. Pure, unadulterated panic jolted through him when he realized the bed wasn't empty. When he realized the bed wasn't even his own. How much had he drunk the night before? Judging by the pounding in his head, it was a truckload. He bolted upright and glanced over at the sleeping girl next to him. _Two _sleeping girls.

He cursed out loud, and the blonde at the edge of the mattress shifted.

He didn't know where the hell he was; all he knew was that he had to leave. He searched for his jeans on the floor, and found his shirt in the hallway. His shoes were nowhere to be found, so he scraped it and grabbed his keys from the counter of the strange kitchen.

It all would've been just a normal morning, had he not had a constant nagging in the back of his mind. He would've felt no remorse whatsoever. Everything would've been fine. But when his head leaned back against the headrest of his brand new Cobra, and he closed his eyes against the blinding daylight, all he saw were those damned freckles. This was just another secret to keep, and they were filling up fast.

-O-O-O-

AN: So here's Rhodey's introduction. Do you sense Tony's jealousy coming soon? What about poor Pepper? Hmm…we'll just have to see. I wanted to have a nice moment with Jarvis there at the beginning, so I hope you enjoyed that.

Oh my goodness, thank you guys so much. Seriously. I can't deal. You are wonderful. Keep 'em coming.


	19. Little Lion Man

AN: Haha, I love making you guys suffer. It's fun. But good thing you didn't have to suffer long.

Little Lion Man – Mumford & Sons

-O-O-O-

_January 30th, 1996_

From his various trips here with his father, he'd become quite familiar with downtown Los Angeles. He took a mental note to look up who was playing at the Philharmonic. Maybe he'd take her out to a concert while he was here.

He'd called ahead to remind her that this was their date night before he'd flown in on his father's jet, wanting her to be prepared when he took her out. This was nerve wracking, he had to admit. He'd never taken a girl on an actual date, and he wanted everything to be absolutely perfect. As perfect as one Tony Stark could make a date such as this.

His knuckles rapped against her door and he heard shuffling inside. She was tugging on a pair of heels when she answered, bracing herself against the door jamb. "Hey," she greeted him, smiling and breathless.

When she straightened up, he took a minute to look her over. She was gorgeous. Her hair was pulled back away from her face, and pieces of it fell elegantly against her neck. The dress fit like a glove, the silken fabric clinging just-so to every curve of her body. For a moment, he imagined what that shade of emerald green would look like painted on his hot rod.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in for a kiss. Right there in the middle of the hallway, his hand trailing along the bare skin of her back. Yes, he deicded, this was his favorite dress she'd even worn, and he never wanted her to take it off. Well…maybe that would come later.

When they parted, she took a heavy breath. "Hey," she said again, visibly shaken.

"Hi." He smiled, satisfied that he'd left her seeing stars. "You ready?"

"Yeah, let me get my purse. Come in." She moved aside to let him inside.

Her apartment was relatively small and still plain. She hadn't gotten time to decorate yet. A brand new couch flanked a rather outdated television—or at least outdated by Tony's standards. A tall bookcase was set diagonally against the corner, filled with books. He should've pegged her as reader.

"Where's the bedroom?" he asked, peeking down the hallway.

She smiled and turned back to face him from her spot at the kitchen counter, swinging a black purse over one shoulder. "Later," she told him, and he pouted.

Her hand slipped into his and she led the way out of the building. "Where are we going?" she asked.

Before the chauffer could, Tony opened the car door for her. "Can't a man have secrets, Pep?"

She had laughed, but his own joke left a bitter taste in his mouth.

-O-O-O-

"Try it."

"No, it's looking at me."

"They're eggs, not eyes, Pepper."

"I don't care. It's disgusting."

Pepper was currently staring down at a small dish of caviar and crackers, her nose wrinkled up in disgust.

"Just one bite."

"The last time you told me to try something, it was gross."

"Here, I'll go first." He reached over and picked up a cracker, shoving the whole thing into his mouth at once. "See? Delicious." He gestured for her to try some.

She hesitantly picked up one cracker and took the smallest of bites. "Ugh. It tastes like a mouthful of salt."

He laughed briskly and took a sip of his water. "I never liked the stuff either. People just eat it to look fancy."

For the tenth time that night, he leaned back in his chair to take a long look at her. The emerald color of the dress perfectly complimented her hair, just like he thought it would. She wore a light dusting of makeup, and her freckles were made even more prominent by the blush that accented her cheeks. Her hand came up to brush a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Hey," he said, making her look up. "You look beautiful."

She smiled, blushed, but ducked her head modestly. Instead of saying thank you, she chuckled under her breath. He was struck with the thought that she didn't believe him. Just to emphasize his point, he lifted a hand to her bangs and pushed them away from her face. Maybe it wasn't that she didn't believe him, but that she'd never been told.

After a beat he spoke again. "So when does the season start?"

She looked up at him again, surprise evident in her face. "Oh, you want to go to the games?"

"Of course I do."

One corner of her mouth quirked into a smile. "I got you some tickets. We start mid-February."

"I'll be there. I'll throw flowers onto the field for you. Bring an air horn and what-not."

She laughed. "Please don't."

"I wish you could come home with me," he blurted. "It's lonely without you." Lonely, not to mention he lost all sense of self control.

"This summer will be better, right? You'll be working for SI, here in California."

He nodded.

"Well then we'll have all that time together. Something to look forward to. We just have to make the best of what we have right now."

He gave a genuine smile. One of the remarkable things about Pepper was that she was able to see the whole picture, and yet remain so focused on the moment.

They finished dinner and exited the restaurant hand in hand, but the flash of a camera caught them both off guard. Suddenly they were surrounded. Three guys leapt from a black sedan, rapidly shooting pictures and firing questions, none of which Tony responded to or even heard. His grip on Pepper tightened while he pulled her towards the car, trying to get out of there as fast as he could.

Finally, the driver pulled around and Tony pulled her inside the back of the car.

Everything was entirely silent when the door locked into place, and Tony could feel his ears ringing, both out of rage and from being so rapidly transferred from chaos to muteness. His brain hadn't completely caught up yet.

He glanced over at Pepper, who had her hands in her lap and her head down. She was obviously shaken, and he didn't really know how to comfort her. This was insane. Who had he been kidding by thinking this would work? He was putting her in so much danger like this. There was no doubt they'd be pictured together in tomorrow's tabloids. He could see the headlines now. _Stark Swoons Over Unknown Redheaded Beauty; Stark's New Flavor Of The Week._

He was stupid for even coming here, for even thinking he could have a normal relationship. There was nothing normal about him, and his love life was no different. He cursed under his breath and propped an elbow against the window, resting his head on his hand. "I'm so sorry, Pepper," he whispered.

For a moment he wasn't sure she'd heard him, so he turned to look at her.

She took a heavy breath. "It's fine."

-O-O-O-

Back at her apartment, she insisted on taking a shower alone and came back into the living room wearing an oversized t-shirt and no pajama bottoms. She fixed herself a mug of tea in the kitchen, and offered him one, but he refused.

The silence between them was deafening. Neither knew how to react or what to say about what had happened.

She came to sit next to him, sipping her mug of tea quietly. "We could watch a movie," she offered after a moment. He nodded in agreement.

She chose some random movie, one that he'd never heard of, nor was he that interested in it. He assumed that she could care just as much about the film as he did. It was just something to fill the silence. A diversion.

The lights were flicked off, and she lay down on the couch with her head in his lap. His fingers instinctively treaded through her hair, and his fingertips traced against her skin.

He tried to push the press out of his mind, but it was nearly impossible. He only hoped whatever they had up their sleeves wasn't too traumatic. He couldn't stand losing her. Not after he'd spilt his heart and soul to her. Not when he couldn't function a normal member of society without her.

What was done was done, and they'd just have to lie in the bed they'd made.

His thoughts were broken when she took hold of his hand and pressed his palm to her lips. She pushed his Rolex out of the way to press a kiss to the pulse point at his wrist. He watched her in amazement for a moment. She must've felt his eyes on her, because she twisted around to look at him. The gears in his brain shifted but jarred, trying and failing to formulate something to say in apology. In explanation. When he came up empty, she shifted in his lap and straddled his hips. Her mouth found his, warm and needy, and he knew this wasn't going to be as relaxed and premeditated as before. There was something different in her eyes. Something stormy. He was ready to give her the reigns and let her take charge. There was nothing he could say or do anymore. The ball was on her turf.

He'd never made the conscious separation between wants and needs. It had always been wants. Wants for material things, wants for physical affection, emotional affection. But this was so much more. It surpassed everything he'd ever encountered. Then why was it so easy to choose his wants over his needs? It was almost masochistic in a way. Like a druggie, he wanted to see how long he could survive without her. But like that same druggie, he could never stay away long, and when he was away it was pure torture for himself and everyone in his wake.

When all was said and done, she pressed against him, her smooth cheek at the center of his chest. She took a long, even breath, and he listened closely.

In that moment, he knew she knew.

Of course, any idiot could see that he'd been drinking more than he normally had. But in her subconscious she knew. She knew the alcohol was causing his steadily fall downhill. It probably hadn't registered in her conscious mind yet, but she knew about his excessive partying, and about the girls. In that breath there was disappointment, there was hurt. But there was also understanding. Understanding that this was just the way things were. In order to have him, she had to carry his baggage with him. He wondered where her breaking point was. How many times he'd have to screw up before he'd finally lose her.

Why was it so hard for him to have a little self-control? He was so concerned about the press making a spectacle of her, but he wasn't even concerned with something much more close to home. Something much more rapid and permanent than anything those trash mags could come up with.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, the words like broken glass against his tongue. It was the closest he could come to telling her he was sorry.

-O-O-O-

January 31st, 1996

Pepper rose early and fixed them both breakfast. She had hoped to rouse him by setting a cup of coffee at the bedside table, but he just sniffed at it, groaned, and went back to sleep.

She was just finishing the eggs when a knock sounded at the door. "Just a second!" she shouted, hurrying to get the eggs out of the pan without burning herself. She dashed for the door, lunging at the knob before the visitor gave up and left.

James stood before her, wearing jeans, another simple t-shirt, and a leather jacket. "You ready?" he asked.

For a moment, she stared in confusion before she remembered. "Oh shoot. We were supposed to do that thing today! I'm so sorry, I forgot."

They had agreed that Pepper would show him around town today, and maybe they'd even take a trip down to Hollywood to hang around the Walk of Fame. James shrugged one shoulder. "It's not a problem. I can wait."

"Well, actually…" But before Pepper could finish her sentence, an arm came possessively around her waist from behind. Her stomach did a back flip when she looked up at Tony. His eyebrows were knit together and his eyes had turned almost black. He glared over at James, waiting for an explanation.

"Oh, hi. Um…Jim, this is Tony. My imaginary boyfriend, actually," she joked, and James's eyes grew wide as saucers.

"Imaginary?" Tony prompted, raising an eyebrow at Pepper.

"Day-um, Pep…no wonder you wouldn't tell me who he was. I never…"

But Tony cut him off when his hand braced against the door jamb, leaning closer, getting in Jim's face.

"Who the hell…do you think you are?" he asked, looking the other man up and down.

"Tony, don't be rude. This is Jim. He lives across the hall. He went to basic training with Peter. Isn't that weird?" She was trying to keep the mood light, but it wasn't working.

Tony wasn't listening. He'd stepped closer to James, sizing him up, judging whether or not he could take him down in a fight.

"Back up, Bubba Blue," he said, and James smirked, looking down at the carpet.

"Look, man. I ain't trying nothing with her, if that's what you think. We're just friends."

"Yeah, and it better stay that way, Buckwheat."

James squared his shoulders, about to speak, but Pepper cut in. "Guys. Really." She put a hand on Tony's chest, trying to pull him back inside. "Can we do this another day, James?" she asked.

The man relaxed, looking back at her. "Sure, Pepper. Maybe next weekend." He threw another glare at Tony before retreating.

Like trying to convince a rabid dog not to pounce, she pulled Tony back inside and closed the door. She retreated back to the kitchen before speaking. "Wow. That was embarrassing," she scoffed, clearly irked at his behavior. "Do you really have to act like that?"

"Who is that?" he asked accusingly, still fuming.

"He's a friend, Tony. You know, when people have a completely platonic relationship with the opposite sex, that can happen."

"I don't like him."

"I don't care if you do," she stated calmly, pushing a plate of eggs and sausage towards him. He almost took offense at her comment, but then realized that he couldn't keep her from making her own decisions. She was right. He couldn't make decisions for her, not when he couldn't even make them for himself.

-O-O-O-

February 1st, 1996

He left early the next morning, wanting to get back to Massachusetts at a decent hour since he had to drop the jet off in New York first. He promised to come back for her first game, and given her a quick kiss before leaving.

Before he reached the Escalade parked and waiting for him, he noticed a black sedan at the end of the block, a camera lens poked through the crack in the window.

His steps were so quick, his sneakers stirred up dust on the sidewalk. He made for the sedan, ignoring his chauffer's protests. The camera lens quickly disappeared and the dark tinted window rolled back up.

Impudently, he leaned against the side of the car and knocked on the glass. He couldn't see through the black tint, but he pointed anyways, signaling whoever was inside to roll down the window.

Finally, after what he figured was a lengthy nervous argument between the occupants of the car, the glass cracked open, and then came down all the way, slowly.

On the opposite side of the glass was a boy, probably no older than Tony himself, with a serious case of acne and nearsightedness, the latter of which was corrected by thick framed lenses. Several other men occupied the van and ducked their heads low to avoid being seen.

"Who do you work for?" Tony asked immediately.

The scrawny looking man on the other side of the door looked bewildered.

"Who. Do. You. Work. For?" Tony repeated slowly. "_People? The Enquirer? Vanity Fair? _Come on, spit it out."

The younger man gaped liked a fish out of water. _"The LA Times," _he blurted.

"What is it with you _Times _people? Are you selling yourselves out or something?"

The boy didn't understand his reference and looked confused.

"Listen." Tony propped his elbows against the window sill, leaning close to the guy's ear. "I'm going to try and be as polite as I can, ok? If I see any of those pictures you and your buddies took the night before, or any of the ones you took this morning. If I see _any _of them _anywhere_, I won't _hesitate_ to get your ass fired and make sure you never work in this town, or anywhere else again. Don't mess with a man who has an entire arsenal in his backyard. You'll be taking your meals through a straw if I find out you sold those pictures to anyone. And in case you haven't noticed, I'm not afraid to go to jail. Got it, slim?"

The boy nodded, clutching his camera for dear life.

"Great. Glad we can agree. Have a good day, boys." He smirked and waved in cordial fashion as he retreated back to his car.


	20. Kiss With A Fist

AN: First, I must admit that I didn't understand softball before I wrote this chapter. I barely even understood baseball. *facepalm* But I did plenty of research, just in case any of you are nit-picky. Research which involved watching a YouTube video explaining the basics—which was probably dated somewhere in the late 80s—and holing myself up in my room to watch the NCAA Playoffs—which I actually found myself enjoying. So if any of you out there are sports connoisseurs, don't be too harsh.

To make it easy on myself, I put Pepper as pitcher and she does also play offense as well. Please don't kill me if I mess something up here, haha.

-O-O-O-

Kiss With A Fist – Florence + The Machine

_February 10__th__, 1996_

"Snow cone?"

James backed away from the purple glob of ice shoved under his nose. He gave Tony an annoyed look, eyebrows raised. "No thanks."

The other man shrugged and dropped back onto the bleacher. He noisy slurped at his snow cone, purposely trying to grate James's nerves, before speaking. "Kind of weird that a soldier on leave spends his last day in town at his quote-on-quote _friend's_ softball game, don't you think?"

"I told her I was coming. And I didn't have anything better to do." James slid his sunglasses over his eyes, peering through the fence at Pepper where she stood in the dugout.

"You don't have a girlfriend? Maybe I don't need to be worried about you anyways."

"I'm not gay, if that's what you mean."

"Hey. Don't ask, don't tell. And I didn't ask."

"No. You assumed."

"I didn't assume, I insinuated. Only asses assume."

"Right…"

The pair went quiet as the third inning began, and Pepper took her place at the pitching plate. The girl had strategy, and she could easily envisage a batter's move before they even made it. The Bruins were leading by two runs to the Kentucky Wildcats, who currently had a score of zero. Pepper wasn't letting anyone get by her, varying her throws just enough to keep the offensive team on their toes.

"How long have you been dating her?" James asked as he watched Pepper throw a curve ball.

"Are you a journalist? No seriously, is there a tape recorder hidden in your lapel?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

"A little over two months. How long have you been hiding your sexuality from your parents?"

"I'm not gay."

"If you insist. It's just a little weird that you stalk innocent women in apartment buildings. You're either a serial killer or in desperate need of a shopping buddy." Tony took a huge bite of his snow-cone.

"Yes, I just can't handle one more trip to Macy's without someone who shares my passion for designer handbags." James rolled his eyes.

"You said it, not me."

"Are you jealous?" James peered at Tony over his tinted lenses.

Tony ignored the question with a cheer when one of Kentucky's batters struck out.

-O-O-O-

She scuffed at the dirt under her feet, settling herself in, taking her stance. Her hands tightened around the bat, molding her palms around it. She took a few swings just to warm up. The pitcher rolled the ball from hand to hand, staring Pepper down, obviously calculating her abilities. But Pepper was ready. She took a breath, focusing in. Everything around her blurred out and all she saw was the ball.

The pitcher wound up and released.

There were no cheers, no shouts from her fellow teammates. She only heard the crack of the bat against the ball, then the thud of the bat against the dirt as she took off running once she registered what happened.

The ball sailed overhead, its trajectory high and long. The third baseman didn't even try to go for it, and the fielders watched dumbfounded, motionless, as the ball sailed over the fence.

Lizzie Mendoza, one of Pepper's teammates, took off immediately from her spot at second base and made a break for it while Amber Jones, at third, bounded into home and cheered on her other two teammates.

Pepper was at their heels. Home free, but not slowing her pace, she threw both arms up in victory as she reached third. When she reached home plate, she threw high fives at her two other teammates, and the other girls crowded around them as well, bringing them in for hugs and pats on the back.

Like a veil had lifted, Pepper became aware that the crowd was wild, cheering and screaming. She found Tony and James among them. Both men were on their feet, their cheers audible over the rest of the crowd. She threw them a wave before jogging back to the dugout.

-O-O-O-

After the game, Tony insisted on footing the bill for lunch for the entire team. He was currently perched between two of Pepper's teammates, arms around them both, while Pepper had been wedged at the end of the table, all but forgotten. Everyone on the team was infatuated, and she could practically see Tony's head growing bigger by the second. It was almost sickening to watch them hanging on his every word. She glared daggers in his direction, but he never once threw her a glance. He was too preoccupied with complimenting the short stop's toned calves.

When Amber Jones's hand reached up to rest against his chest, Pepper's fist tightened around her fork. She could've clawed her eyes out.

Once back inside the car, Pepper kept her gaze out the window, arms over her chest.

"Did I mention how awesome you were today?" he said, still grinning ear to ear.

"Nope," she said simply, not looking at him.

"Well you were fantastic. That was a great hit."

"Thanks."

"Oh, hey. Amber invited us to a party tonight at some frat house."

"Us? Don't you mean _you_?" she spat.

"What? Pep, come on. Don't be like that. Those girls were just being friendly."

"Yeah, they weren't the only ones being _friendly._"

His hand fell to her knee, giving it a squeeze. "Relax, babe."

She could've vomited when he called her that.

"It's nothing to worry about. It's just a little bit of fun."

She grunted in response and shifted her gaze back to the window.

-O-O-O-

His arms wrapped around her waist as she looked herself over in the mirror. She'd decided on a lavender colored button down blouse tucked into a black skirt that reached mid-thigh. It was maybe a little too dressy for a party of this nature, but she felt comfortable like this, and refused to dress as skimpy as some of the other girls did. He pressed his lips against her neck, breathing in the familiar scent of her perfume. "You look great," he said against her shoulder.

She moved away from him, still making him suffer for his antics earlier. "You ready?" she asked.

She had agreed to go to the party Amber had invited them to, if only to keep tabs on him all night and make sure he didn't try anything stupid.

A knock at the door made him turn in confusion. "Who's that?" he asked.

"James." She breezed past him, out of the bedroom to answer the door.

"James?" he repeated, but before he could protest, Pepper had let the other man inside.

"Not bringing a plus one?" she asked him, and Tony suddenly felt invisible.

"Nope. But I've got my eye on Mendoza. She's got a mean swing."

Pepper laughed and retrieved her purse from the counter. "She's a sweet girl. But I'd stay away from Amber. She's got a bad rep."

Tony didn't miss her subtle hint, and followed them out the door.

-O-O-O-

Pepper really disliked the party scene. It wasn't her. She always ended up as a wall flower with a glass of some cheap liquor, wondering why she was even still here. And even now, when she had brought her boyfriend and a friend, she still ended up alone on a couch at the edge of the living room.

Which fraternity this was, she didn't remember, and she figured most people in the room had just as much an idea as she did. Rock music blared from somewhere in the house, thudding against the walls. From her spot, she could see James in the kitchen, amiably chatting with Lizzie Mendoza. Pepper smiled. They were cute together. Lizzie was the team's third baseman and she knew her stuff well. She had always been valuable to the team, and always kept positive even through their losing streak last year. She had caramel colored skin and long, curly hair which Pepper had never seen straightened. If Pepper didn't know any better, she would say that James was already in love.

She looked away, now scanning the crowd for Tony. The house was full of people, crowded together in every room. She had lost Tony within the first twenty minutes and hadn't seen him since, and that was nearly an hour and a half ago. Truth be told, with Amber around, she didn't trust him to keep his hands to himself.

For a moment, she thought she recognized his raucous laughter above the dim of the party, but she couldn't locate him yet. She rose from her spot on the couch and squeezed through the crowd to make her way to the dining room. Another couch was set against the wall adjacent to the dining room table, and several girls were crowded around it. She caught sight of Tony's grey t-shirt, and when one girl moved to push past her for the kitchen, she could now see his entire form, perched at the center of the couch. He had a girl on either side of him, a drink in one hand, a joint in the other hand that rested against his knee. He was all smiles, saying something to one of the girls which Pepper didn't catch over the music. Her vision went red.

She stepped closer, hands on her hips.

When his eyes flickered to her, he held his hands up to welcome her. "Hey, Pep! Come to join the fun?"

The girls around him took this as a cue to laugh, and Pepper joined in, forced behind clenched teeth.

"I think its time to go." She smiled, feigning sweetness.

"Nah. We're just getting started. Here, try this." He held the joint out to her, and she took it from him, only so she could pass it off to a girl next to her.

She reached for the sleeve of his shirt and yanked him up from the couch, surprised at her strength, but figured she couldn't give herself much credit—his own strength was dulled by copious amounts of alcohol and weed. The girls beside him groaned and pouted. "Sorry ladies," he said while Pepper pulled him away.

He forced her to stop just inside the kitchen, stumbling over his own feet. "Come on, baby. Don't be a fun-sucker. Are you mad because of the girls? 'Cause we can go back in there, and I promise I won't even touch them."

She pulled his hands from where they rested on her waist, not in the mood. "You're out of control," she said sternly. "It's time to go home."

"No. I think we can have just five more minutes. Please. I promise I'll just go in there, say goodnight. It won't…" He tried to pull her against him, and she pushed him back.

"Stop it."

"Two more drinks? One more drink? Ok, half a drink. I'll pour it for you. What do you want?"

James, having noticed them in the kitchen, approached.

"Oh, no. It's Major Payne. He's going to take me out. Pep, come on…" Tony still tried to protest leaving.

"Is everything ok, here?" James asked, eyeing Tony, then glancing to Pepper.

She let out a distressed sigh. "Are you ready to go? I'm sorry we have to make you leave early, but I've got to get him home."

"No, we don't have to go home. Let's go to Burger King," Tony said, trying desperately to latch onto Pepper's waist, but she was pushing him away.

James fished the keys from his pocket. "No big deal. Let's go." He threw a disdainful glance at Tony before leading the way out of the house. Tony stumbled behind, only forced to follow because of Pepper's hand in a vice grip on his arm.

-O-O-O-

Tony's mouth didn't shut the entire drive home, which was thankfully no longer than fifteen minutes.

"Guys, we should get matching tattoos. That'd be fun. It'd be a nice bonding experience. Ya know, get each other's initials? No? No takers? Ok that's fine."

He took a breath, and he was off again.

"Amy…Angela…whatever her name was. She told me I had nice eyes. I always thought so. She said they were like melted chocolate. What do you think, Pep?" He leaned forward in the seat, craning his neck to look at her in the driver's seat.

When she didn't answer, he huffed and leaned back.

"Damn, this is like being in a cop car. Where are you guys taking me? Please tell me you aren't going to murder me. Because I think Rhodes might be a serial killer, Pepper. He told me so at the softball game. Hmm…Rhodes…Rhodey. Yeah, that's better. Did I mention how fantastic you were this afternoon? That was an awesome swing."

When he finally stopped, Pepper managed to count to fifteen before he spoke again.

"Guys, can we stop at Burger King?"

This time she answered. "It's past midnight, Tony. Burger King is closed."

"Taco Bell, then. They're open. Yo quiero Taco Bell? Uh…tu quieres? Ustedes? Whatever." He watched with wide, longing eyes as Pepper sped right past the restaurant. "No, wait, stop…. And there she goes…." He mumbled to himself. Finally, he realized no one was listening. He unbuckled his seat belt and sprawled out on the back seat.

When they pulled up to the building less than two minutes later, he was asleep.

Pepper tugged him out of the car, arm around his waist to lead him to the elevator. He was past joking now, and becoming groggy and whiney. He clung to her side, stumbling down the hall, talking much too loud for one-in-the-morning.

She said goodnight to James, and apologized for her boyfriend's obnoxious behavior before shoving him inside.

"What do you have to eat?" he asked, heading straight for the kitchen.

"I don't know. Find what you want. I'm going to bed." She headed for the hall, shedding her button-down blouse on the way. She was exhausted and exasperated from having to deal with him. Tonight had just been another crack in the foundation. She changed into pajama pants and a tank top, not even bothering to turn on the lights.

The light filtering in from the kitchen was blocked by his silhouette in the door way. He had a sandwich in hand, already half eaten.

"Aw. You're dressed. I thought that little strip tease back there was an invitation."

"Not right now, Tony," she sighed, pulling back the covers.

He moved behind her, and his hand wrapped around her waist.

"Did you hear me, or is all that pot smoke blocking your ears?"

"Aw, don't be that way." He turned her around. The sharp tang of alcohol on his breath made her cringe when he brought her closer to him.

"Quit it," she said weakly.

"You don't want me to."

"Yes, I do." Her voice raised the slightest bit. She pushed him back a few inches so she could turn back to the mattress.

He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her flush against him, his lips rough and sloppy on her own. He was pressing into her so hard that she couldn't breathe and for a moment she felt a twinge of fear. She whimpered against his lips, trying to twist away.

Her hand whistled in the air, coming in contact with his face with a sharp crack.

Taken aback, he stumbled away from her, a hand on his face where hers had made impact.

He didn't look at her, but stared at the carpet, shocked. When his hand dropped, she could tell, even in the dim light, where her fingers had been. A bright red mark stood out against his skin. She'd never hit someone that hard. She'd never hit anyone, period, but it was all she could do to get him off of her.

His face changed, and he looked like a wounded child, like he was about to cry. He was finally coming to his senses, and realizing what he'd done. Wordlessly, he flopped onto the mattress.

Her hands were shaking. She didn't even want to be in the same room with him right now, let alone the same bed.

She leaned down to remove his shoes, and tugged off his jeans. Thankfully, he had passed out in seconds, or was too rattled to try and grope at her again. After she finished, she snatched up a pillow from the bed and marched into the living room, leaving him where he was.

-O-O-O-

_February 11__th__, 1996_

She drove James to the airport early that morning. She hadn't even told Tony she was leaving.

This was the second person she'd be sending off to the army. She wondered if it was her aura.

He gave her a hug, and ensured that he'd be alright. If there was any chance of him seeing Peter over there, which was doubtful, she asked that he say hi and tell him she loved him.

"It won't really mean the same, coming from you, but…ya know."

He chuckled. "I think he'll understand the gesture. And hey, you make sure Tony stays in line. He needs you."

She hadn't cried yet, but she felt the familiar sting in his throat when he said that. "Right. I will."

They shared one last hug before James disappeared through the gate.

On her way out of the airport, she stopped by a news stand to pick up a newspaper. When she saw her own picture on the front page of _Us Weekly_, her stomach sank to the floor.

Immediately, she yanked the magazine from its shelf and flipped it open. The headline read: _Stark To Settle down with Mystery Redhead? _She found the article and began reading, trying to ignore the suspicious glance the woman next to her was throwing her direction.

_Tony Stark, infamous playboy, was seen outside a Los Angeles restaurant with the gorgeous, long-legged redhead pictured above. Virginia Potts, 19, plays on the UCLA softball team and holds quite an outstanding athletic record. She's pretty enough, but we can't help but wonder why is Stark keeping her such a secret. Could there be a wedding in the works that Stark is just too shy to tell us about? Stark was also seen exiting a Los Angeles apartment building the next morning, but whether or not the apartment belongs to her is unconfirmed; Tony is quite reputable for hitting up more than one broad per night. But this one seems a bit different. Virginia isn't famous and not known for much else besides her athleticism, but any woman that spends time with Tony Stark can't be too innocent. We suspect she's got a few dirty secrets, and we're desperate to know more._

"Oh. My. God," she said audibly, making a few heads turn.

She tossed a copy of_ Us Weekly _and the _LA Times_ onto the counter, throwing her money down. She never made eye contact with the salesman, mortified.

The entire drive home, she drove in silence. Maybe if she just ignored it, it would go away. It would all die down. But ever since his arrest in July, Tony seemed to be a hot-button topic for all the tabloids, and as long she was around him, she knew this wouldn't die down.

When she got back to the apartment, Tony was on the couch watching television.

"Where'd you go?" he asked. Thankfully, he was completely sober now, but looked more haggard than ever.

"To take James to the airport," she said, setting her purse and her newspaper on the counter in the kitchen.

Tony grimaced. "I can't put my finger on it, but I've got a problem with that guy."

She snapped. The camel's back had finally broken. She spun to look at him. "You know what I have a problem with? Your constant jealousy over me and James. If I've told you once, I've told you a million times, there is _nothing_ going on with us." Her voice was a little hysterical, but she wasn't shouting.

He shifted on the couch, turning to face her. "What's wrong, Pepper? You seem tense."

"Tense? Yeah, forgive me for being tense. Forgive me for being on edge when I've just been put on display for the entire country, accused of being some floozy."

"What are you talking about?" He stood up.

She swiped the magazine off the counter and tossed it in his direction. He caught it easily. When he read the headline, one hand moved to grip the top of the magazine, and she thought he was about to rip the entire thing in half, but instead her tossed it to the coffee table. "My God, Pepper." He ran a hand over his face, now serious. "I'm so sorry."

She scoffed, moving into the kitchen. She needed a mug of tea to calm her nerves, or she was going to explode.

"I was waiting for you to come back…so I could tell you…I have a few things to say." He eased himself onto the bar stool at the edge of the counter.

"Yeah, I'd say so." She dropped the kettle onto the stove a little too roughly.

"I'm really sorry about last night. I was…completely out of line." It was time to be honest, and he was trying his best. He'd made a fool out of himself last night, and worse it had been around her friends. Now this ordeal with the press topped it all. She didn't seem to be paying attention, so he continued.

"I wanted to apologize for my behavior. It was…unacceptable and…well…I wanted to tell you that…you…I mean….us. You and I." He gestured between the two of them, even though she wasn't looking at him. "I think it's really nice, what we've got going on. And…." He sighed. This was complete word vomit. He took a breath. His fingers drummed nervously on the counter. He watched her scoop several spoonfuls of sugar into her mug.

"What I'm trying to say is…that I really…if we want this to move forward. Maybe I should just come out and say that I…"

She put a hand up, turning to him. "Please stop."

"I'm…" he started, but shut his mouth once her words registered.

"I really don't think I can take much more." That was all she could say before the familiar tightening of her throat stopped her from speaking.

But it was all she needed to say. He understood. She couldn't take much more of his reckless behavior, his partying, his drinking, and his shenanigans with other girls. He'd made an ass out of himself last night, and she couldn't be expected to put up with it. She deserved more respect than that. He had always told himself she deserved the world, but he'd missed the mark every time when it came to giving her what she needed most. He had planned to tell her he loved her, that he wanted to be with no one else but her. But how was he supposed to make her believe that, when all along he hadn't showed it?

He was a hypocrite. He loved her and couldn't live without her, but when it came down to it, he was still practicing his old ways. Quite honestly, he didn't want to stop. He didn't want to make that sacrifice for her. If he planned to continue on this way, he had to let her go. It was best for both of them.

"You can't keep treating this like a normal romance. Don't take me on dates and buy me things…Don't wind me up like that, Tony. It hurts."

He nodded.

"I mean…the girls, the drinking…I know I should just come to terms with all this. That this is just the way things are…" Her voice sliced through his thoughts and he looked up at her.

"No. You shouldn't have to. And it was wrong of me to expect you do that." He stood from the stool and moved for the bedroom.

-O-O-O-

Twenty minutes later, he was pulling out of her apartment, safely tucked in the back of his Escalade on the way to his private jet. They'd decided to put things on the back burner. They both needed their time to decide. To sort things out.

Before departing Los Angeles, he made a few quick calls to the _Los Angeles Times_ and _Us Weekly_, getting the names of every photographer and reporter that had been involved in the press scandal. In no time, he was assured that they had all been fired.

He hated to end things, but it needed to be done. He wouldn't leave her hanging on the sidelines while he had his fun. It wasn't fair to her.

Since his parents' death, he'd lost himself, as cliché as that sounded. He didn't know what he wanted. He didn't know where he was going. He didn't even know if he wanted a part in the company like Obadiah had offered.

While he was searching, whatever he was searching for, it was best to do it alone.


	21. I Want You

AN: OK. This chapter might push the envelope as a very mildly-rated M. But maybe that's just me…I'm desperate not to put this in the M section because, come on, we all know what you're looking for when you go there, and I don't want this classified as such.

I was going to wait a few days, but I just can't do it. I'm very happy with this little number, and I hope you enjoy.

Also, Google Translate for the win, here. If you speak French, don't be too harsh.

By the way, have I lost some readers? Just curious. I haven't heard from some of you in a while.

-O-O-O-

I Want You – Faith Hill

_March 3__rd__, 1996_

It was much too early on a Saturday for her phone to be ringing. She groped blindly on the bedside table for the receiver, finally getting a grip on it at the fifth ring.

"Hello?" she answered groggily, throwing a pillow over her face to block out the light.

"Hey, Pep. Guess what I'm doing right now?"

Her heart skipped a beat, and she was wide awake now. She hadn't heard his voice in twenty days. Not that was counting.

"I haven't the slightest," she said, trying to sound casual.

"Crossing the street. While talking on a phone. Cool, huh?"

She smiled. He must've gotten one of the new-fangled Motorola cell phones. "Watch where you're going."

"Well, anyways. I was just calling to ask if…if you still wanted to go to Paris with me?" His voice deepened a bit, and she could tell that he was trying to sound virile and not anxious.

She sighed into the phone.

"Pepper?" he asked, making sure she was still there.

"Yeah."

"Yeah you'll go with me, or yeah you haven't hung up yet?"

"Um…" She sat up and straightened her camisole. "Yeah, I'll go with you," she said finally. She needed to see him. She _wanted _to see him.

"Great. I've got everything set for the fifteenth. I'll see you then, is that cool?"

She nodded, though he couldn't see. "Ok."

"I'll pick you up. See you then." The other line clicked, and Pepper leaned back into the mattress.

-O-O-O-

_March 15__th__, 1996_

Her suitcase skittered over the pavement and came to a stop in front of the limo parked at the curb. He was leaned against the flank of the car, wearing an AC/DC t-shirt underneath a black blazer, his hair perfectly tousled, sunglasses perched on his nose. He had slightly more facial hair since the last time she'd seen him.

"Hi," she said, tugging her coat closer to her as the brisk spring wind cut across the sidewalk.

He smiled and stepped forward, asking for a hug. She leaned in, pressing her nose against his lapel. He smelled fantastic; he'd changed his cologne, but it was absolutely intoxicating underneath the hint of cigar smoke and cognac. She had forgotten how much of an affect he had on her in the time they'd spent apart. When he pulled away, she heard herself let out a sigh, but hoped he hadn't noticed.

The chauffer loaded her bag into the trunk while Tony pulled her inside the car.

"Every time I see you, you look different," he said while she buckled her seatbelt.

"What do you mean?"

He shrugged, one corner of his mouth quirking up. "You just look…pretty."

The way he said it sent butterflies alight in her stomach. Not beautiful, not gorgeous, simply pretty.

She smiled and turned her gaze to the window.

-O-O-O-

_March 16, 1996_

They took his father's jet, and landed in Paris around ten at night. Pepper learned from their interactions with the driver that Tony spoke flawless French. She should've guessed it, and wondered how many other languages he was fluent in as well.

The penthouse he had purchased—yes, purchased—was warm, neoteric, and absolutely gorgeous. The entire back wall was glass, giving a wide view of the Parisian skyline. Dark expanses of mahogany floors were only interrupted by fluffy white rugs in the living room and dining room. Two chandeliers hung over the dining room table, their light glinting off the polished table that matched the wood of the floors. A cozy kitchen with brand new appliances was tucked behind the dining room. In the center of the apartment, just across from the front door, a series of sleek dark wood steps led up to the loft, where Pepper imagined the bedrooms were.

Tony asked her if she'd like to see the upstairs, but she was too preoccupied with the lights of the Eiffel Tower, glittering white and bright through the panoramic window of the back wall. It looked as if the tower were lit by dozens of stars clustered together, twinkling in and out. She stared until eventually, the white flashes dulled and the tower lights turned to their usual yellow-ish color.

"They light it up like that every hour," he said from behind her.

"Its beautiful," she breathed.

"Yeah you are," he said casually, but successfully distracting her.

She turned to face him. She threw him a small smile before ascending the mod staircase to inspect the place further. He wasn't far behind.

There was no official bedroom, barricaded off by any walls or curtains, but only a single queen-sized bed dressed in a wine-colored satin comforter. The bathroom was the only room hidden behind a door, and even that room was huge. A wide tub was recessed into the floor, with a water feature dripping steadily into it.

"Tony, this place is amazing," she said, turning to face him.

He smiled. One of the rare smiles that reached his eyes. Not sarcastic or arrogant. Not one of the smiles he gave when he had proven someone wrong. But a genuine smile. One that made his eyes turn a few shades lighter when the light caught them.

"Get dressed. I'm starving."

He turned to head downstairs, leaving her alone. She slipped out of her jeans and blouse. It had been a long flight, and she'd been cramped in a plane for nearly twelve hours. She was thankful to be out of those constricting jeans. She slipped into a plum colored dress that fluttered around her knees with a black belt at the waist. She figured heels weren't very accommodating in the city, so she opted for black flats.

She checked her reflection, and fixed her makeup where it had smudged from a day of traveling. She kept telling herself that they were only here as friends, but he'd already given her not-so-subtle hints that that wasn't the case at all.

With a deep breath, she descended the stairs. He was at the dining room table, alone, without a drink or a cigar. He stared out the window, his chin in one hand. The city lights cast an odd shadow on his face.

He was planning something, she knew. He had brought her here for a reason, and she was hungry to figure out what that reason was. But she let him have his silence. He had something on his mind, and she couldn't pry him.

She didn't try to resist herself when her hand came to his hair. Almost involuntarily, her eyes closed. She'd missed the feeling of the dark strands between her fingers. His body shifted so he could rest his head against her ribcage and wrap an arm around her, pulling her closer.

"I'm glad you came," he almost whispered.

Her head dropped to plant a kiss to the top of his head. This was mad. Everything about this was insane. They had called it quits, and here they were halfway around the world pretending nothing ever happened, touching each other like this. But it felt so inevitably natural. Maybe they were destined for eccentricity. After all, that was Tony Stark in a nut shell; eccentric.

"Where are we eating?" she asked.

He took her to a small bakery where they bought croque monsieur, and then rode the Metro to the Siene, just next to Notre Dame. They leaned against the barrier by the bank, and dove into their sandwiches.

"So you've been here before?"

"A long time ago," he answered through a mouthful of cheese and bread.

"Where'd you learn to speak French?"

"Pensionnat dans les Alpes françaises.," he replied, and she rolled her eyes.

Her weight shifted and she leaned her elbows against the stone barrier. "What did you have planned for tomorrow?"

"Breakfast." He shrugged. "Then whatever you want."

She stared down at the river, watching a couple strolling past hand in hand.

Silently, she let one hand shift from the tissue paper wrapped around her sandwich and her fingers just barely brushed the sleeve of his coat. When her hand fell into his, his palm was open and waiting, as if it had been there all along.

-O-O-O-

There was only one bed. The horror only struck her when they arrived back at the penthouse. He was unbuckling his jeans in the corner, and he kicked them into the closet before turning to her. He looked her up and down for a moment before smirking. "What? I don't bite. Well…only if you want me to."

She watched him pull the covers back and slide beneath them. She wondered if the sheets were satin, or Egyptian cotton like his bed at the mansion in New York. There was only one way to find out.

Her head ducked to her chin, almost shyly and she unclasped the belt at her waist, then reached around the pull the zipper of her dress.

The purple fabric whispered the floor, leaving her only in simple black bra and underwear. He didn't seem to get excited, nor did he make any snappy remark about her choice of lingerie. He only watched, his eyes intense and almost smoldering in the lamplight.

She slid in next to him, moving slowly but assuredly. She shifted onto her stomach and her arms curled upwards to cradle her head.

They just stared at one another. Stared until he made the first move, and she gladly let him.

-O-O-O-

_March 17, 1996_

They were both propped against the headboard, he in his boxers and a heather grey t-shirt, she in her bra and panties. The mattress was crowded with plates of sausage, breads, fruits, and pastries. She could hardly even move without risking knocking something over.

"I think you went a bit overboard," she said, licking icing off her fingers.

He just smiled. He was smiling a lot recently.

His spoon dropped back into the bowl in his lap. He stared at the light from the window behind them reflected in the spoon, distracting himself. Finally, he took a breath. "Can I tell you something?"

"Ok," she answered.

He shifted on the bed, crossing his legs under himself. She pulled the jewel-toned sheets around her shoulders.

"Ever since we…decided to stop this…" He took a long, heavy breath, trying to decide how exactly he wanted to say this. Not that he'd planned and practiced in the mirror or anything.

"I've been drinking…a lot." He looked up at her, his eyes hauntingly dark. Something was hidden there, and he hadn't yet given it permission to leave him.

Too soon, he looked back down again.

It was hard to get the words out when he was looking at her. He'd gone over and over how he wanted to say this, but now in the moment, he was lost. His hand came to the back of his neck. "A lot more than I ever have actually, and I'm…not really sure…"

Her hand moved to rest on his elbow. Not out of pity, not to comfort him. It was just a simple touch, and he felt the air come back to his lungs.

"But anyways…I was in this bar the other day. This girl came up to me wanting me to buy her a drink. And I didn't. Before I could even think about what I was doing, I'd turned her away. I sent her back to her table, rejected. It was weird. It confused me, actually. I've never denied any woman that came up to me. And even though I was probably three sheets to the wind, I realized…That it's you. It's always been you." He finished.

Before he could ruin the moment with more words, she'd shifted closer to him. Slowly, like she was moving through water, she rose up on her knees, her fingers threading through his hair. There weren't any more words that needed to be said. He'd always thought that language was all lies anyways. Words were always watered down.

Her naked lips turned up into a smile, small but understanding. It surprised him, with her being this close, that he wasn't concerned with the clasp of her bra or the curve of her back. All he wanted was for her to be close and never leave.

Before his brain could censor his heart, the three dangerous words tumbled form his lips. "I love you," he said. But it didn't feel scary. It didn't feel wrong. It wasn't whispered out of instinct into some strange girl's ear while he pressed her against the side of his car. With Pepper, it was ok. It was right.

"Love you, too," she whispered against the strands of hair at his temple.

When she said it, he knew. He couldn't even fathom being without her, with someone else. All the things he'd been telling himself about how he couldn't live without her, about how he needed her in order to survive, they all made sense. Like pieces of a machine coming into place. Each part could function by itself, but together it was something bigger. He'd had revelations, fantasies, and epiphanies. But never before had everything come together into one perfect picture. He was certain this was where he was whole.

He smiled up at her while her fingers played at the dark curls near his neck. "I don't know what happens now."

Honestly. He didn't know. Love was a foreign region for him, and she was the compass.

She laughed, soft and whispered. She tossed her hair over one shoulder, and his fingers reached up to catch a few red strands as they fell against her fair skin.

"The Eiffel Tower?" she asked.

Now he laughed. "What?"

Her hand pushed against his chest so she could stand and vault herself off the mattress. "Come on, get dressed. I want to go sight-seeing." She gave him a wink before disappearing into the bathroom.

-O-O-O-

"No."

"Yes."

"Tony, I can't let you do that."

"Why not? It's my money, and I want to buy it for you."

The couple stood on the Champs-Élysées sidewalk, paused in front of a Chanel storefront. Tony had caught her practically drooling over a classic little black dress. It was quite simple, with a fitted skirt and sleeves that fell just off the mannequin's shoulders. The fabric at the bodice twisted over itself, making a graceful fold at the center of the chest.

"Its probably a thousand dollars, or more," she pointed out.

"And?" He grabbed her hand and tugged her down the sidewalk. "What's Paris without Chanel?"

She was still trying to protest when they entered the store, but she immediately became rigid when a saleslady asked if she could help them.

Tony pointed towards the window, and spoke words Pepper didn't understand. The woman nodded and eyed Pepper for a moment, before retreating to the back room. She returned in seconds, Pepper's dress laid over both arms, presenting it out to her for her approval.

"Try it on." He nudged her forward.

Pepper let out a nervous laugh. Her hands shook as she reached out for the garment. She was practically falling over herself, and all for a dress. But this was Chanel. She had never in her life had a designer dress; this was every girl's dream.

She mumbled a very quick and poorly accented merci to the woman before following her to a dressing room.

"Your boyfriend?" the woman asked, once they were out of earshot. She gave Pepper a wink.

"Oh…um…yes." Pepper nodded. She could barely speak English let alone French at the moment.

"Tony Stark. Very rich and famous in America, oui? Very smart?"

Pepper nodded again.

"Very lucky, mademoiselle."

She shut Pepper in a room with the dress, and Pepper stared at the thing a long while before finally undressing. This was it. Destiny come true. The dress fit like a glove, like it was practically made for her. The sleeves sat just at the edge of her shoulders, showing off the freckles there, which she knew Tony would go mad for. It hugged her waist and hips, giving her the perfect figure and lengthened her legs—not that she needed help in either of those areas.

She must've gotten caught up in her reflection, because the saleswoman knocked quite rapidly on the door, asking if she was finished yet.

She exited quickly, and the woman smiled. "Oh, oui. Très belle. But you are blushing, mademoiselle. Not to worry. Such a thing happens to many girls in their first Chanel dress. How you say…overwhelming, oui?"

Pepper nodded anxiously, trying not to explode. The woman led her back out so Tony could have a look.

He had reclined himself on the divan just outside the dressing area, his sneakers propped on the arm.

"Très belle, oui?" the saleswoman asked, getting his attention. Pepper was too dazed to speak.

He shifted, turning to look at her. His eyes landed on her and he grinned devilishly. "Oui. Très," he said. "Nous allons l'acheter."

Whatever he'd said made the woman turn and disappear behind the counter.

Tony stood and laid a hand on her waist. Pepper's eyes fluttered closed when he leaned in to her ear. "C'est belle. Mais je ne peux pas attendre jusqu'à ce que vous l'enlever."

She laughed, completely lost. All she knew was when he spoke like that, she felt like she was melting.

"What?" she breathed, smirking. His laugh tickled her ear, and she shivered.

His hand brushed the freckles on her shoulders. "Will you wear it tonight when I take you for dinner?"

"Ok," she answered.

The woman returned to usher her back to the dressing room where she changed back into her jeans and blouse. The dress was boxed up and handed over to Pepper in a sleek black shopping bag.

Tony looked very smug and satisfied with himself once they left the store.

"Thank you," she said, slipping her hand into his.

"I saw the look on your face back there. I thought you were going to faint. I had no choice."

She elbowed his ribs and he chuckled, bringing an arm around her shoulders.

-O-O-O-

Their breath mingled when he pressed her against the door, creating a mix of peppermint and fine French wine. His fingers reached around her, fumbling for the zipper of her new dress.

"Don't rip it, or I _will_ kill you, Stark," she promised, her mouth at his throat. The extra glass of wine she had had made her a little more brash than usual, but he couldn't help but think she might be serious when her tongue darted dangerously close to his Adam's apple.

"I wouldn't dare," he said. The master of zippers and clasps, he had the dress pooled at her feet in seconds. "Believe me, I know how to handle delicacies such as Chanel, mon cheri."

"I love it when you speak French."

"Attendez jusqu'à ce que vous m'entendez parler espagnol.," he muttered against her ear lobe.

"I don't know what that means."

"Precisely."

He pulled her away from the door, and walked her backwards into the living room.

She surprised him when she deftly undid his bowtie and threw the scrap of fabric somewhere into the darkness of the apartment.

"A little feisty tonight, don't you think?" He eased her onto the sofa where she tugged him closer instantly, unable to stand the distance between them.

"Please stop talking."

"Hey. I thought you liked talking. You were the one running your mouth when we did this the first time."

"But I was sober, and you're not."

"Neither are you."

He watched her as she worked at the buttons of his shirt, getting frustrated and ripping the last two.

"Well that was rude," he remarked as she pushed the white fabric off his shoulders. The dim skyline from the panoramic window cast an odd glow on her skin and hair.

"You have like fifty of those. Stop whining."

"Yes ma'am," he spoke, bending down to press his lips against her décolletage.


	22. Sigh No More

AN: After much deliberation, I've decided this will be the last chapter. I would've liked to expound on their visit to Paris, but this story is already pretty lengthy, and I think it's time to move on to the next piece. I will add an epilogue onto this, then my next edition to the "series" will be What We Lose, which takes place pre-Iron Man and during Iron Man. Be on the lookout.

Thank you guys so much for sticking with me through this, and I'm excited about what's to come. You guys have been fabulous, and I hope you've enjoyed this half as much as I've enjoyed your reviews. :)

Sigh No More - Mumford & Sons

_-O-O-O-_

_Vanity Fair, May 1996 Issue:_

_We count ourselves quite fortunate to have gotten the chance to catch up with the one-and-only wonderboy Tony Stark. Busy finishing up grad school—at age nineteen—preparing to take a spot as head of Design and Research at the family company, it's a wonder he has time to pencil us in. But we managed to snag a quick interview with the infamous prodigal son, where he gave us the scoop about the future for Stark Industries, and the potential future of his love life. Sorry ladies, but he's been exclusively committed to one lucky lady since March, and that's a big feat for this self-proclaimed playboy. Read the full interview on pg. 30._

_Vanity Fair: You're taking over a very coveted spot at the Head of Design and Research for the family company. Any new gadgets you can tell us about?_

_Tony: None yet. We're deeply invested in satellite targeting right now, as far as weapons go. And we've got some prototypes ready for our robotics department; I'm really interested in furthering AI technology, but that's probably just something I'll keep personal for now. No sign that the company will pick it up yet._

_VF: Speaking of personal, how are things with Pepper?_

_Tony: She likes to keep things private, thanks, but she sends her love._

_VF: Well, are you at least excited to be graduating?_

_Tony: Eh…same ol' pomp and circumstance. It isn't such a big deal to me._

_VF: You've been doing well since your DUI scandal last July. Any wild parties?_

_Tony: What happens in Vegas…_

_VF: Any idea if you'll be taking over as CEO any time soon? Not that Stane isn't doing a fabulous job right now._

_Tony: I have nothing but good things to say about Obadiah. Honestly. He's always been a faithful friend, and I'm glad to have him. I don't know about becoming CEO, but I think we definitely want to become close partners. I'm not really interested in leading right now. I just want to get my hands dirty._

_-O-O-O-_

May 14th, 1996

Pepper clamped the copy of Vanity Fair under one arm, tugging her suitcase behind her. She'd just landed in Massachusetts for Tony's graduation.

Slowly but surely they were falling in the steady rhythm of a healthy relationship. They had kept in regular contact, calling each other almost every day. Things were much better this time around, and she knew what Tony had said in Paris wasn't said offhandedly. He'd meant it, and where Tony's heart was concerned, he didn't play games. Things rarely ever reached that part of him, but when they did, he saw it through.

She found the car that Tony had called for her. Soon enough, she was dropped off in front of his apartment building. The door was unlocked, and Tony was reclined on the sofa watching television, a glass of liquor in hand.

Always the liquor. There was one thing that hadn't changed. Yes, it worried her. But it was something he'd always done. He loved the drink, and he wasn't ready to sacrifice it for her. Things with Tony were a gradual process. He could only shed one layer at a time.

"Honey I'm home," she said, pushing down the handle of her suitcase.

"Hey beautiful." He smirked at her.

She stretched herself out on the couch next to him, fitting the length of her body to his. "Mmmm…I'm exhausted."

She'd only just finished finals the day before, and then caught a six-hour flight across the country.

His hand tangled in her hair, splaying it over the couch cushion. "I know just the thing to wake you up."

"What's that?" she asked, toying with the buttons on his shirt.

"You and I both know." His hand hitched under the back of her blouse, ghosting over her bra clasp.

"I don't think I can manage."

Her eyes fluttered close, but not out of arousal as his nose nudged behind her ear.

"I love you," she mumbled, and her breathing softened. Her body relaxed completely against his chest.

For a moment, Tony was shocked. Had she just fallen asleep while he was trying to woo her? That had never happened to him with any girl. But his pride wasn't hurt in the least. He sat up to remove her heels and they landed with two identical thuds on the wood flooring. He pulled the blanket from the back of the couch, covering them both. He supposed it was the little things that counted.

-O-O-O-

_May 15__th__, 1996_

When her eyes fluttered open the next morning, they were still tangled up on the couch. He was already awake; his dark brown eyes watched her intently, giving her quite a fright until she realized where she was.

Her nose nuzzled against his chest and she let out a groan. "What time is it?"

"Ten," he said, twisting her hair in his fingers.

She bolted upright. "Oh my God. We're supposed to be there by noon." She leapt off the couch, tossing the blanket aside.

He rose lethargically, rolling his shoulders and his neck. His joints cracked and popped as he stretched. Big mistake sleeping on the tiny couch. He made for the kitchen to brew the coffee. "Relax. We can cut our shower time in half." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"Doubtful, knowing you."

"I'm not sure if that was a compliment or not."

She didn't respond, but he heard the buttons of her blouse skittering against the hardwood floor, and when he turned to face her, he barely caught a glimpse of her bare back before she shut the bathroom door.

-O-O-O-

They'd managed to leave nearly on time, but traffic was in their favor.

Tony took his seat among his peers, all of them dressed in identical black robes. On his left was a fellow physics major, whose name he'd never taken the time to memorize. The blonde on his left ran her hand along his shoulder, successfully grabbing his attention. "Hi, Tony. Remember me?"

"Nope," he answered sharply, turning away from her.

He twisted in his chair, searching for Pepper and Obie. They sat side by side, about fifty yards away among the other guests. Pepper wore a slate grey blouse and a black pencil skirt, very sophisticated as always. Obie was wearing a designer suit and tie, his jacket unbuttoned due to the rising summer heat.

Pepper was laughing at something he'd said, and turned back to the program in her hands. Obie had that way of making people feel instantly comfortable. Maybe too comfortable sometimes. She treated Obie with such respect, a different sort of respect than Tony had ever had for him. Obie had been around since before he was born and, for all intents and purposes, had always been a father when his own couldn't be counted on. But sometimes Tony got the feeling that Obie used that respect and admiration for his own gain. He trusted where this man was leading the company, there was no doubt. And Tony himself was in no position to lead yet. But he knew that when the time came, Obie wouldn't be willing to hand over the reins.

The ceremony was extremely boring, and he thought about bailing out several times. Once he received his diploma and shook hands with various professors and board members, he went dutifully back to his seat. Pepper would have a cow if he slipped out early.

Finally, after nearly two and a half hours of sneaking glances at Pepper and translating every word of every speech into Japanese just to keep his mind busy, he was released.

The courtyard was in an uproar: graduates dodging left and right, snapping pictures, shouting for their parents. He sifted through them, finding Pepper and Obie waiting near the edges, out of the way of the chaos. When Pepper caught sight of him, her hands shot into the air in excitement. She hugged him tight, whispering that she was proud of him.

Obie offered a firm handshake. "I wish your parents could've seen you," he said, and Tony pulled back.

Instantly, he shut down. He still didn't like Obadiah—or anyone—bringing up the subject of his parents. It was personal, and there were a lot of ghosts he hadn't yet released.

Pepper noticed the change. Her hand slipped into his and gave it a squeeze.

"Dinner?" Obadiah offered in truce.

-O-O-O-

Afterwards, Obie's chauffer drove him back to the airport, while Tony and Pepper slid back into his Corvette.

Pepper leaned across the console to give him a kiss. "I'm glad I came down to watch you," she whispered. "And I think…that maybe you deserve a little reward for all your hard work."

His eyebrows rose in expectation. "Can I wear the hat?" He snatched up his mortarboard from where he'd abandoned it in the floor board and stuck it on his head, lopsided.

She smirked and gave him a quick peck. "When we get home." She leaned back into her seat, crossing her legs daintily, but her dress hitched higher on her thighs, making it very hard for him to focus on the road.

"You can't do that." He removed the mortarboard and tossed it carelessly into the back seat.

"What?" she asked, playing coy.

He put the car in drive. "You can't put that out there and then leave me hanging," he teased.

"And you can't possibly drive and concentrate on me at the same time."

"Oh you have so much to learn, Miss Potts."

"That's disgusting. Besides, hat hair is not attractive." She threw a cynical look at his hair which was pressed flat against his scalp. He ran a hand through it, making it stick up in all directions.

He would continue the subject later once they were home. "You know, now that I'm graduated, I feel old. You still have two years of school."

"Yes, but technically I'm the older one. My birthday is before yours."

"Guess that makes you a cougar." He made a growling noise, curling his lip.

"Hardly," she laughed.

-O-O-O-

August 1st, 1996

"This is really kinky," he remarked from the passenger seat.

"And unnecessary, but you insisted on blindfolding _yourself_, which I still fail to see the logic behind since you were the one who approved the plans for the house," she observed, shaking her head.

Tony wore a blank handkerchief wound around his face, covering his eyes, but stared forward, unseeing, out the windshield of Pepper's car. They were on the way to the brand new mansion in Malibu, just finished. Tony had yet to see the finished product, though he had overseen some of the construction and most of the architectural design.

"It's crucial, Potts," he said, turning to look out the window, not that he could see anything.

"Let's just hope we don't get pulled over, and I get locked up for attempted kidnapping," she deadpanned.

"Ludicrous. The cop would probably want to join in the fun. I know I would."

"Disturbing."

"I thought you liked men with flat feet…or is it big feet?"

"Neither of which you possess."

"What are you insinuating about my manhood?" He quirked an eyebrow up behind his blindfold.

Her tires rolled over the smooth, new pavement of the driveway. "The code please?" she prompted, pulling up to the wrought iron gates, where a numeric pad was installed to allow access.

"84744642."

"That's a bit extensive," she said, pushing the numbers on the key pad.

"Proper precautions must be taken to ensure safety."

She rolled her eyes, but it wasn't until she pressed in the numbers that she realized what they spelled out in their corresponding Phonetic letters.

When the gates slid open for her, she continued down the drive and parked at the curve in the driveway near the front door. "We're here," she informed him and stepped out to help him out of the car.

The house was breathtaking. A curved structure of glass and metal seemingly rising from the rocky cliff it was perched upon. It instantly reminded her of the Jetson's house in the old cartoons, only much bigger and much more grandiose. The long drive was lined with well-groomed trees, winding up along the precipice until it circled around itself at the front of the house. Tall palm trees sprouted from the landscaping on either side of the building. Through the large glass panels, she could see hints of the interior, but not much. When she stepped out of the car, she could immediately smell the sharp tang of ocean salt.

If the house was this amazing on the outside, she couldn't wait to see the inside. She pulled Tony from the car and directed him far enough down the drive so he could enjoy the entire picture. When she slipped the blindfold from his eyes, his hands rose in pride and he smiled up at the huge structure. "Amazing. Couldn't have designed it better myself."

"I can't breathe. Your ego is suffocating me." She shoved him the side with her elbow, moving forward to go inside, but suddenly her vision was blocked, and she felt the black cloth being knotted at the back of her own head.

"Um, excuse me, sir…" she laughed, trying to pull at the thing.

Tony's voice was unexpectedly close to her ear. "I told you the blindfold would come in handy."

His hands found her hips and he walked her toward the door. "I thought you and I could have our own little house-warming party," he whispered huskily.

He sandwiched her between his chest and the front door. One arm dropped from her waist to press his thumb against the scanner by the door. The barrier gave way and he nudged her forward, inside. By the time the door had clicked securely back into place, he had her halfway to the elevator.


	23. Epilogue

AN: A short little epilogue for you, here. Please be on the look out for What We Lose, the next edition to this series. You might want to add me to your Author Alerts, or just keep an eye out. Thanks for sticking with me guys, you're amazing.

-O-O-O-

_July, 1998_

CEO. It had a nice ring to it, he supposed. He hadn't really wanted the job at first; he enjoyed his position in R&D, and all the managerial aspects of CEO had never been appealing. But Obadiah had insisted he become a more identifiable part of the company. Not that he didn't enjoy the job; it was nice being in charge, nice having a say in every decision the company made. But he was never good at preparing or keeping a schedule, and he didn't want to learn. He hated meetings, hated conference calls. They were a waste of time, and full of long-winded schmucks who just talked everything to death with no form of action_._

Tony was used to doing things his way, on his time. When he was bored on something, he moved on to the next thing. His mind was much too overcharged to sit for hours on end in a board room. Countless times, he'd adjourned meetings after ten minutes, just on a whim. He spent very little time at the office, only when he was forced to. But today he'd been interviewing applicants for a personal assistant.

Obie had agreed that he needed one, if only to keep him in line. But Tony was searching for someone to whom he could relinquish his schedule, his phone calls, and all the stupid, annoying bits that came with the job.

Not one single applicant had been right, and he'd gone through twenty just this morning. Interviews barely lasted over ten minutes. Tony knew exactly what he wanted, and when someone didn't fit the bill, he didn't hesitate to buzz the secretary in to see them out.

All the women so far had been married, had children, or family that lived nearby. That wouldn't fly. Tony's assistant would need to be on call at all times, unopposed to managing damage control after a house party got a wee bit out of hand. She would have to be intensely organized, sharp and bright. Good at math. Able to deal with his irrational behavior, and have a high emotional threshold. He wouldn't hire some woman who'd lose her cool and threaten to quit after the first drunken escapade. There would be many of those, and he didn't have time to go through this whole process again. He needed someone for the long haul.

It was close to noon now, and no other applicants were scheduled until the afternoon. He picked up the receiver on his desk and called for take-out. Then he leaned himself back in the chair, propping his feet on the desk, bringing his arms up behind his head.

There was only one woman he knew of for the job, but she was currently employed at one of the most prominent law firms in Los Angeles, after graduating with honors from UCLA that spring. He was no stranger to the little black book she kept on the counter of her apartment, which held all the dates, invitations, meetings, and important events that her boss would be attending for the next three months. She was impeccably neat and professional, and she'd stuck with him for the last three years. She was more than used to dealing with his hardheadedness. But was it logical to ask her to quit a job that was so coveted, not to mention a job that she actually enjoyed? Was it logical to hire someone so close to him to be his right-hand woman? For the eccentric, dashingly handsome, slightly masochistic Stark, of course it was. All systems go. Challenge accepted.

He leaned forward in the chair, reaching for the receiver once more and clicked open a browser window on his computer.

The phone buzzed twice before a feminine voice answered.

"Evans and Miller. This is Pepper Potts, how may I direct your call?"

"God, that's so sexy," he breathed.

"Oh," she said, her voice still in a professional tone, "He isn't in the office. May I take a message?"

"Is that code for 'I'm alone and I'm not wearing any…'"

She cut him off. "No I don't think that particular date will work for him. Would you like to reschedule?"

He reclined back in his chair, and he propped his feet up on the desk. "Why don't you tell him you're putting in your two-weeks and taking a job as Tony Stark's new PA."

She gave a delicate cough. "Excuse me sir, I didn't quite catch that."

"You heard me, Potts."

There was a soft click on the other end, indicating she'd hung up. Success. He knew what came next. He could almost set his watch by it. In the meantime, he clicked around through several windows, expertly hacking into the Evans & Miller computer network. These guys seriously needed a better firewall.

Like clockwork, ten minutes later, his office phone rang again. He answered immediately.

"So is that a yes?" he asked.

"Are you absolutely insane?" she hissed into her cell phone. There was a slight crackle of air blowing against the speaker and he knew she'd stepped outside.

"Maybe. But I want you Potts."

"That's inappropriate."

"Not like that…well yes like that…and also as an employee."

"Is this one of your sick fantasies, or are you serious?"

"You know me too well."

"I can't just quit..."

"Yes, you can. That's why it's called quitting," he overlapped her voice.

"…and work for…my…my boyfriend. That's highly unprofessional."

"Don't worry. I'll let you set your own boundaries. No booty calls at work, I promise."

"Doubtful."

"So is that a yes?" he asked again.

"Tony…I don't know what to say."

"Say yes."

He heard her sigh. "Ok," she gave up, still sounding a bit unsure.

"Great. Because I've already sent your notice to your boss." He slammed the receiver down before she could say another word.


End file.
